Vigil
by Caleigho Meer
Summary: Raphael has been rendered powerless from an attack. Leonardo maintains his vigil.
1. The Cruelty

The sparse sunlight through the window had been fractured by the shadows of tree leaves, and trickled over his brother's shell in mottled colors. Leonardo sighed wearily and shifted to negate some of the torpid ache. He had maintained his lonely vigil for so long, that his muscles were cramped as he winced and stretched some of the stiffness away. Leonardo rose as he arched his back and let it pop, before he lowered himself cross-legged to the floor. The wood, a warm shade of sepia, felt a bit more inviting than the ancient metal chair that April had found out in the barn. He was too polite to tell her that his shell was far too large to accommodate sitting in a chair made for the proportions of a human. He wouldn't now, it seemed far too petty, so very small compared to the overwhelming guilt and loss.

Sighing, Leonardo leaned back against the wall, and tucked his legs beneath him. His vigil, he knew, was futile, and had no bearing to the outcome. Raphael still lingered in that twilight between sleep and death, and Leonardo knew he was inching ever closer to dying. The tears rose and were squelched at the gut-wrenching thought.

Raphael lay so still, nearly curled on his side, so still, so uncharacteristically still. Leonardo had gripped his brother's wrist to feel the faint pulse, so many times over the last few days. It was weak, but still there. It was the only sign of life left after the tortured assault. Leonardo felt the flicker of alien rage rise and then linger in his gut.

Donny had made a sarcastic remark to April's concern for Raph's unexplained disappearance. The last words of "he'll drop in at any moment" had just been spoken. There had been no time between the words that had become so horrifically prophetic in a matter of moments. There was the shower of jagged glass, falling in crystalline fragments to the tile. And then, Raphael's broken body had been hurled to the earth, and landed between them. They had bolted upward, hands already going for their weapons, as April screamed and sobbed and fell to her knees, gathering up Raphael in her frail, human arms. She could not lift him, she could not protect him. She could only hold him and pray. Noise, and movement exploded around them as the black-clothed army suddenly flooded into the apartment in dark waves. Donnatello only had time to stoop to Raphael's side, lay a finger over the wilted neck, and give them a curt nod that he still lived.

Leonardo had very little memory of the vicious fight, other than the bones that he broke were not his. The injuries he inflicted were doled out with a savage glee, not from need, but from vengeance. Looking back, he was both horrified and sated by the knowledge that he had sent at least a few of them to hell. He knew that Splinter wouldn't have wanted him to relish the cruel knowledge of pain. But now, with the uncertainty of Raph even living through the injuries….it was a bit of comfort, however wrong.

The battle had been like an ocean wave, one man rising, one falling under the flurry of kicks, parries, and blows. It was no longer a matter of skill, but overwhelming numbers. Whether he had vanquished one, or a dozen, there were at least one more to take his place. They had gathered up their wounded sibling and fled to this place. April had driven the whole way wiping tears from her eyes, and tearfully glancing back at Raphael's pale, still form. Donny had figured out how to lower the seats in the back of the van for a makeshift pallet. They had lowered Raph onto the back of the seats. Donatello had waved his brothers away, so he could examine the injuries. It made him sick to see the level of depravity that Raph had endured. There were scars on his shell, on his chest plates. His breath was ragged, and uneven. Raph was now crowned with the bruises to his skull where they had slugged him, over and over again. This was not just a beating. It was nothing less than torture.

April drove on through the night, and arrived at the old farm house in the waning light of morning. Raphael had not awoken, or even moved. He still breathed, he still lingered, wrapped in the blankets and the protective grips of his three brothers. They didn't trouble themselves to unpack, or even form a plan. April fumbled with the lock, as they gently lifted Raph and carried him inside. Normally, Raphael would have snarled over their concern, or waved away the invasive questions. He would have hated being swaddled like an infant, and escorted over the threshold. He would have hated the tears, the concern, the helplessness poured out on his behalf. But Raphael couldn't hate it as much as Leo loathed the eerie stillness of his brother. Raphael had lay there, still wrapped in the blankets, tethered by their arms. Leo eyed his brothers, pained at their exhaustion. As the defacto leader, it was his painful battle of the early morning to convince them all to go to sleep. He would keep vigil over Raphael. There was no way he could sleep now, anyway. Yawning, Donny and Mike had put up a bit of a tired fight, but it was rather one-sided. Mike couldn't stop yawning, and Don looked as if he were dozing on his feet. April had cajoled them into bedding down for a few hours of sleep. Leo was startled awake when she came back into the room, holding a blanket, and pillow out with an uncertain smile. Leo accepted them with as much gratitude that he could manufacture with his remaining manners. She had only paused to lay a gentle hand over Raph's wilted shoulder. She let her hand linger, as if she could shove some life back into his battered body. She turned to Leo. "He's going to be alright. He's tough."

It was said for her own benefit as much as it was for his. He let it pass without comment with a polite smile. "Of course." It was faltering and unconvincing. She let it pass without comment. It was too horrific and cruel to openly admit that Raph might die. It was the unspoken torture that they all bore with stoic silence. Leo, however, out of a sense of guilt, seemed to accept the burden even more than his brothers. He rarely left Raphael's side.

Raphael. The same condition that kept him so far from Leo's reach had also removed him from the reach of pain. Despite the injuries, there had not been a grimace, a groan, or even a flinch when they had to move him. Raphael had not moved at all, and as the days passed, he looked less like he was slumbering, and more as if he were dying. At least it would be a quiet, drifting exit, a simple exchange of breath into light, and fleeing this wrecked mortal shell that had failed him so miserably.

Leo had spent many hours in tearful prayers and pleading, as he held his brother's hand, and begged the heavens, and his brother for some sort of response. It seemed that neither were able to answer. Raph only continued his lingering existence of breathing, and laying there. Leo still kept his vigil in part because of obligation, but mostly out of love for his sibling. If, God forbid, Raph died, Leo wanted to make sure that his departure from the earth was in the company of his loved ones.

It was the only thing that Leo could do now. It was all that any of them could do

.Leo ground his palms against his eyes, attempting to scrape the invasive thoughts of Raphael's last day. They were musing over pizza, joking as friends and brothers, noting and dismissing Raph's absence. He had always had that brooding, restless inner torment that erupted as anger, sometimes as abrupt as a volcano. When that happened, Raph had always preferred to go hurl his bad moods at a target other than his brothers. Leo had never understood what sort of thing haunted Raph to the point that he could only avoid his anger by leaving them alone so much. It was never a thing that Raphael divulged. It had become a familiar sight over the years-Raph pacing the tunnels of their home like some caged cat, his irritability warring with his self-control, his sarcasm hurled like weapons, because he didn't know what else to do. And when Raphael felt like he was going to explode, he'd simply part with a snide remark to wrestle with whatever demons he could not squelch again. How many hours had Raph wondered the dark streets for some answers, or at least some distraction from so much anguish? Leo swallowed back another tear at the realization that Raphael hadn't been flinging the sarcasm because he wanted to inflict damage. He wasn't provoking any of them, and Leo shut his eyes remembering how many times he had backed his fiery brother into a corner, another fight, another sniper fire's exchange over something so very trivial now. Anger may have been Raphael's frail shield, but it was a far more dependable thing for Raphael to admit hate, over pain. Raphael's anger was familiar to them all. Raphael ever admitting that he was hurt was not.

Leo wondered what tortured his brother to the point of coming to this. A surge of anger was squelched before Leo could cater to it. Did Raphael's infamous mouth fling one too many insults? Did pride forbid him from taking the more sensible path of simply running away? Leo scowled in self-derision. What in the hell could Raph have done to deserve _this?_ If they were so cruel as to kill by an unrelenting, violent attack, Raphael would have suffered regardless of what he did, or didn't do.

Sighing, Leo only gripped the flaccid, cold fingers in his own, in a groping plea for forgiveness. Raph's fingers were slack and still against his own warm ones.

"Raph? I don't know if you can hear me." There was no response other than the rise and fall of the blanket.

Leo plunged on, heedless of who heard it. It felt like undaming a pent up river.

"I know you and I have had our problems. I don't know why you and I tried so hard, and failed so miserably to get along. Maybe it was because I never understood that you weren't angry at the world, you were hurt by it. Maybe it's because I couldn't get that you didn't hate me, you were just sick of always having to defend yourself against the rest of us. I'm so sorry that you felt like the only you had to survive your own family was to keep running from us. Was that what drove you to the roof?"

The words evoked more tears that Leo didn't bother to wipe away.

"Why did you need to escape us, again, Raph? Did you really feel that trapped by us? Did we really alienate you to the point that you wanted the roof over us?"

Leo paled and clutched Raphael's hand, shaking. "Raph, I'm so damn sorry. If I could have saved you, if I could trade places with you now, I would. But I cant, little brother. All I can do is sit here and plead and pray that you can hear me, that you'll somehow harness that stubborn streak, and pull through this. I love you, Raph."

The silent plea lingered between them, as Leo squeezed the cold hand in anguish. He flinched when he felt Raph's fingers tighten against his own.


	2. Tortured

_Raphael's sais were the first thing they took, but far from the last. He had created a bit of distance, and time, spinning, kicking, and relishing the satisfying grunt of pain as his foot connected with a throat. He grimaced when he glanced at their growing numbers, pissed that he was outnumbered, and now, so foolishly weaponless. Two of them had somehow latched onto his arms, snatched him back to the earth as he was flying into a leap, and hurled him against the wall, hard. Restrained, and burning with humiliation that they had actually pinned him, Raphael lowered his head, and tried to channel his rage into something more productive than animalistic frenzy. His lip curled at the words. Was he not an animal?_

_His sais had somehow clattered to the ground, and he felt their loss as a wound. He snarled when one of them casually flung them over the side of the building. Weaponless, and now outnumbered, he span into another kick, and hurled his arm into the solar plexus of another. He felt the rib bones snap as the soldier fell to the ground._

_They warily inched away from him. He took the brief interlude to breathe, and glare at them all, as he surveyed the rooftop for some deliverance, or advantage. He grimaced when he saw there was none._

"_You guys must be studying the abridged book of ninja fighting." He hurled the insult with the hopes that at least a few of them would rise to the bait. He couldn't take them all on, but he could definitely take out the ones stupid enough to come within striking distance. He pummeled one with a fist, dropped into a dead roll and somersaulted into a wide circle. Confused, they scrambled out of his way to avoid being crushed, and Raphael shot to his feet, satisfied that he bought himself a bit more time and a few more feet free of them. Warily, he rose, heaving._

_He gave them all a smirk for their troubles. "I mean, come on….how do you guys expect to beat me?"_

_The answer was viciously clear when he saw their reinforcements swell out of nowhere, and come slinking towards him. He grimaced when he saw that each one already had their weapons-a cruel assortment of chains, bos, blades, all brandished, all ready as they slowly lurched towards him, and enclosed his precious few feet of space._

_Raphael's eyes bulged as he crouched to the earth in a defensive pose. "Good answer…..good answer!"_

_The sarcasm was the only way he had to mask the fear. Swallowing back the bile in his throat, Raphael grimaced at the burn. Puking his guts up at this point was a bit beneath him. He drew in a cleansing breath, tried to calm the fear that was surging through him, tried to channel it into the bright, frenzied rage that could possibly keep him alive for a bit longer._

_He pivoted to glance at the shimmering dome of abysmal blue, and the roar of the indifferent city he could very well be dying now to protect. Dying….Raphael's guts clenched when he thought of his ending being played out here on a lonely roof top, slowly taken down, bone by broken bone, gradually, literally shattered by blade, by fist, by chain. His last breath would be witnessed by his killers, his absence probably unnoticed, or even welcomed by his brothers._

_He really wished now that he hadn't been such a sarcastic ass to his brothers. Did they know that he loved them? Would they find his battered remains on the roof? Who in the hell would think to look here, anyway? He let the thought of being beaten to death curl into his soul, come to rest in the pit of his guts, let it fester into strength. They'd have to kill him first to make the tortured thought a reality._

_Apparently, they had found their guts in numbers, and they were slowly circling him. The distance he had created was being casually, slowly eroded as they continued their languid, casual pace. Raphael pivoted, spinning around to keep himself closed off from attack as he looked for an opening through their demented little circle. It was like a perverse game of ring around the rosie, only it would be him doing the falling. His impromptu plan of striking the chance when it presented itself was miserably failing now. It could only work if they came close enough to strike._

_Heaving, Raphael dropped into a crouch, tucking his legs underneath him, centering himself into the best position. He only had a second or two to get the flip right. With a grunt, he shot upward, hurtling himself high above the fight, and into the air. It felt like flying as he ducked his arms into a roll, and arched his legs to land. His intent was simply to leap away from the fray, and bolt like a rabbit. It was normally not in him to admit defeat, but it would be nothing less than suicide to fight them all._

_He felt the blinding pain of the thick, cruel chain as it collided with his chest, and flung him back to the earth. Raphael was slammed into the ground, shell first-the most vulnerable position. He shuddered with the agony of the concrete nearly shattering his shell, and he grunted for precious air. It only came out as a choked whimper. Torpor, and ice slithered over him as he tried to rock himself upright. One of them slammed a fist into his already thudding head. He heard the crack of a fist, the icy numb ache, and barely noted the next blow at all._

_He tried to crawl away from the ravaging hits, tried to pull his limbs and brutalized skull into the confines of his shell. It was only his protective instincts that were coming into play now,he could not do anything else. The beating halted at the grunted order of one of them, and he slowly staggered to his feet, swaying and nearly collapsing. The world swam, the ground beneath him rippled and his breath only came in short, choked gasps. He raised his arms in a defensive stance, tried to defend himself, through the haze of pain, and his decreasing ability to remain upright. He no longer dealt the blows, he simply swayed to them._

_Another blow to the head. It didn't feel like pain any more, it just felt like a dull thud. He heard the crack of the blow, and felt it slam into his face. He collapsed, again, and tried to crawl away on hands and knees. They wouldn't even allow that. One of them slammed a knee into his chest, drove it into his gut as Raphael let out a strangled whimper. He was sucking in air, now, but his ravaged insides wouldn't allow him to breathe….._

_Raphael felt violating hands inch their way over the rim of his shell, as they flipped him over, lifted him, and then slammed him into the concrete. He was hauled up the stairwell, and gleefully subjected to the pummeling of more concrete to his skull as they watched his head bounce as it bounced into each step._

_He grit his teeth, screwed his eyes shut at the searing ache that burned its way to his very core. Something wet dribbled down one cheek. He did not know if it was blood, or a tear. His breath was coming in staccato choking now-snatched and broken off in hitching gasps. It was a sickening wheeze that seemed to require almost too much pain to continue._

_He felt himself being dragged and abruptly lifted, his arms dangling, their human hands over his opened his eyes, and saw the sky. It was swallowed by the sea of black hoods as they suddenly swung him into the air. Was this his ending, then? To be flung off the roof, and thrown to the bowels of the city, to die like trash in the street? Would his brothers find him? Would he want their last sight of them to be his broken, splayed wreck smeared on the concrete?_

_Raphael opened his eyes, and saw himself…Squinting at his reflection from the skylight, he saw the wilted, bruised, bleeding thing they had reduced him to. He looked more like a beaten corpse than anything else. He stared in wonder at himself as they shifted position, centering him over the glass, and rotating him until he was splayed over the glittering obsidian surface._

_He heard the gleeful, savage cackle as they let him go. He plunged downward, unable to do anything else besides fall. The glass shattered beneath him, the shards rising and bearing down like teeth. He saw the fragmented shafts of sunlight pooling down over the broken glass, glimmering off his bloodied shell. He heard the breaking of the skyline, and saw the diamond shower of crushed glass as it fell with him. He saw the floor rising up to meet him._

_There was only the agonizing flare of pain over his entire body as he felt bone, shell and body collde at last. He heard the bewildered shriek of his name, the voice piercing his disoriented mind like a lance of light. His name was whimpered in absolute horror. And the last time he heard his name, it sounded like a requiem. _

_He felt human hands, small, frail, and quivering lacing against his throat, his head gently cradled, the eerie wet of tears. April? How…._

_The thought flickered, and died when he heard Leo's bellow of his name. Raphael could barely make out the blue mask, and the eyes huge with agony as his brother lay a finger against his throat and hissed out, "He's alive, barely."_

_It sounded like a snarl. Raphael's splintering awareness was only coming in vague snatches that broke through the pain. April had somehow raised him a bit more upright, her arms braced over his chest, her tremor like an earthquake as she held him in the chaos. Leo's grip on him had tightened into a protective tether, as if his brother intended to snatch him like some angel of deliverance._

_Raphael heard his broken voice beside him. "Hang on, Raph, we'll get you out of this. Please, please, hang on…" It was an invocation._

_Raphael had never heard that fractured tone coming from his strong brother, never heard that plea laced with so much pain. It was harder to bear than the blows. Raphael felt Leo's hand in his own._

"_Don't let go, Raph. Don't let go!" Raphael felt the darkness crashing in, the pain dulling to a throb, the ache diluting into sedating torpor. His breathing slowed, as April screamed his name and clawed at him in desperation._

_Raphael tried to force open his eyes, tried to obey the pleading for him to answer. He tried to squeeze Leo's hand back in reassurance, tried to apologize, tried to choke out that he loved them, and he was so damn sorry….._

_He could do nothing more than groan out an unheard plea, before he finally crumbled into oblivion._


	3. Blame

Irrational hope soared, and plummeted like a bird hit with a bullet. Leonardo's breath seemed lodged in his throat, and he nearly choked as he waited for his brother to move again. It might have been nothing more than a flicker of reflex, but it was so welcome, Leonardo nearly wailed when there was nothing else. Leonardo crouched over to Raphael's side, until they were inches apart.

"Raph." The name was coaxed, breathed as soft as a prayer. Leo fought the urge to squeeze his brother's flaccid hands until the bones nearly broke, if it meant he could haul his brother back out of the stupor of hellish oblivion. Any reaction, even if it was from pain, was better than seeing his brother laying there like a gutted animal.

"Raph!" The name was crumbling to a sob, as Leonardo snatched the limp arm, gripped it between his two hands, and wailed. The shriek clawed through the air, rippled like thunder through the battered walls of the old farmhouse, and fell, shrill and piercing. Michaelangelo felt the sound like a stab wound as he and Donny exchanged panicked glances. Both shot from their casual lounging together, and bolted towards the wailing cry.

Mikey skidded to a halt, and hastily lay a palm across Donny's chest to stop the mad flight into the room. Donny made a small sound of protest, and Mikey only answered with a helpless jab of his quaking finger towards their two brothers. Donny exhaled in sudden, tortured understanding.

From that panicked, blind shriek of anguish, he had expected an injury, a problem, a cause, but at least something he could rationally put back together. Anything was better than the agony of seeing Leonardo like _this._

Mikey somehow overcame the emotional tidal wave that was suddenly unleashed on them all, and had the good sense to walk the few steps between him and Leo. Dropping to his knees, his groping hands clawed at Raph's chin, his fingers splayed over the throat, nearly bruising the skin. Mikey didn't let go of Raph until he felt the throat ripple with breath. It was a slow, slight movement, frail as a butterfly's wing, but still there.

Mikey jerked his head in a sharp tilt towards Donny, who sagged with relief at the blessed confirmation that Raph was still alive. Mikey swallowed hard, and forced himself to finally look at Leo.

Leonardo still held Raph's hand, between his clenched, shaking fists, clutching at it as a drowning man would cling to a rope. Mikey inwardly cringed when he finally found the guts to look into Leo's eyes. His eyes…they were huge, and looked like fractured glass, as the tears dribbled quietly unnoticed down his twitching cheek.

"Leo?" Mikey timidly whispered, as he carefully eased himself beside his brother. Donny gave him a helpless shrug, and approached Leonardo with the deliberation of nearing a wild animal. Mikey flickered a confused glance at Raphael's limp hand. His limb dangled off the edge of the bed where Leo had abruptly let go and lurched backward in the frenzied attempt to escape the anguish. Donny shut his eyes for a long moment, before he gently took Raph's hand. Clutching it, he curled it protectively to his chest, as the tears seared from his closed eyes. He gently lay it back on the bed, as if he were handling something that could break. Sighing, he shook his head, and turned back to Mikey.

"There's no change." It was a broken whisper of sorrow.

There was only the negating whimper, the rigid lurch as Leonardo trembled like a birch in a windstorm. He shook his head, with a sharp jerk, as the words were choked out and broken off.

"He moved."

Mikey let out a joyful whoop, and leapt into the air like a colt. He landed between his two brothers, and dubiously stared at both, not understanding why their faces were twisted like paper, and why Leo was still hunched over and weeping.

"Doesn't that mean that he's getting better?" It was the lost voice of a scared child, quivering with the threat of more tears. Donny's face contorted as he fumbled for the truth, tried to put it into words…

"Mikey, it doesn't mean he's coming out of it. It was only a reflex."

Torpor, silence, a flair of joy that crashed back into disbelief again. "But-" Mikey's objection was severed when Donny suddenly snarled, "Mikey, it was a _reflex_!"

It was as sudden as a slap, and hurt just as much. Mikey crumbled, but stayed quiet, as Donny lay a palm on his forehead, and his forehead contorted behind his hand.

"Sorry, Mikey….I just-" Michelangelo ignored the attempt at apology, and simply stared at his brother with teary-eyed forgiveness. Donny stiffened when Mikey swept him up in an unexpected embrace.

"I know, Don. This sucks for all of us." Donny savored the warmth of his baby brother's hug, let it shelter him for a brief moment from the anguish of Leo, and the uncertainty of Raph.

"Leo!" Mikey blurted in alarm.

Leonardo looked as if he had been mortally wounded, and had not fallen. He had his face buried in his helpless hands, body folded as if broken, the silent weeping more gut-wrenching than animalistic wailing could ever be.

"I've failed you." It was a strangled sob, barely heard over the sudden, stricken silence. Mikey and Donny looked at each other, each one helpless, their hearts aching and the words failing miserably to offer any sort of salve for guilt so viciously strong.

"Leo-" Mike's attempt at comfort was already dismissed by the sudden, negating jerk of Leo's head.

"Don't!" Leo's one word was sharp and searing as a brand, as he shivered. "This is my fault. Raphael wouldn't have even been on the roof if I hadn't treated him so harshly!"

Donny exhaled a sudden breath, trying to fight the storm that was suddenly reeling in his gut. Wordlessly, he rose, and halted only inches away from his stricken brother. Leo wilted miserably, rigidly lurching backwards into the wall, almost as if he were expecting an injury. Donny said nothing, as he lay reassuring hands on Leo's shaking shoulders, and let them rest as he peered into Leo's eyes. Leo fought the urge to flinch. He was too wounded to flee, or fight, too tired to do anything more than cry.

"Leo." Donny waited patiently for Leo to finally look at him, clearly expecting nothing more but pain. Sighing, Donny gently tightened his grip on the quivering shoulders, to emphasize his words.

"_You_ did not do this to Raphael. You wouldn't. It's not your fault that Raph was on the roof. It's not Raph's fault this happened. The only blame and responsibility lies with the psychopaths who tried to kill him. Not Raph, and not_ you."_


	4. Mikey

It was so very strange how unyielding, indifferent metal could feel so unwelcome in his hands. Mikey was used to the familiar warm wood of his nun chucks, their ability to fly in the air, create the whirl wind around him. They were light, brilliant, flowed like water. They felt absolutely nothing like Raph's brittle sais he reverently held in his hands.

It felt vaguely violating to be handling his brother's weapons, even if Mike only intended to polish them up and remove the traces of rust and blood from the dully gleaming points. Splinter had told them more than once that dulled weapons would end in sharp injury. If Raph was awake to see his brother's hands on his weapons, it would either result in an all out brawl, Raph spewing like a geyser, or a very toxic mix of both. Mike had borne the brunt of Raphael's infamous temper tantrums like the rest. Sometimes the sight of the hot-head igniting and spluttering about the latest thing that pissed him off was amusing. Other times, the end result would be a long, drawn out torture session of sarcasm spewed at random, followed by curt, irritable snipes. Living with Raph was akin to living with an active minefield. There was simply no telling what would cause the next blow up. Usually, Mike could deflect some of that seething irritation with a goofy joke. It was amusing to see Raphael, insults ready to be flung, ire raised to the point of exploding, suddenly deflate in dismay at Mike's latest antic. It was an unspoken kindness that Raphael acknowledged and repaid by his blistering defenses of Mike against Leo's never ending sermons. Mikey cringed at the sudden realization that the most vicious sparring matches between Leo and Raph most often sprang forth from one of his antics.

Mikey sighed in miserable contemplation. He would endure Raph's cruelest tirade without whining if it meant that Raph was alright. Mikey held the weapon up to the light, carefully turned it over to make sure that there was no more stains. Reverently, he lay it by it its twin on the battered table with the rest of Raphael's gear. Mikey had set them together on the table, almost as a shrine of sorts. It was a sad, sparse display of hopeful anticipation, and searing uncertainty. The longest night of Mike's life was the idle hours spent in the dark, holding his brother's body in the back of the van. Don had some rudimentary knowledge of what to do, of course. He always did.

Donny's calm certainty and expert handling of the situation had been the one thing that brought a bit of stability to the anguished chaos. The harrowing part was that there was so little he could do. He could bind the wounds, he could do what he could to make sure Raph was comfortable, of course. But, he was not a doctor, and he had no way of even knowing the internal damage done. Raph's pulse was still strong, his breathing deep and regular, and there was no hitching wheeze indicating a broken rib. No, most of the damage seemed to be inflicted with the dark crown of bruises that marred Raph's head. Donny had no idea how damaging multiple head wounds could be, or if it was fatal. Mikey had offered the cheery observation that if Raph was still breathing after such a beating, there was no reason to believe he wouldn't come back. Donny did not know if Raph would wake up at all. And, as cruel as it might be, the idea of his brother being damaged beyond repair and forced to reside as a broken remnant made Donny secretly wonder if it would not be a mercy. He left those troubling thoughts to himself, though. God knew they had enough to fret over. They had arrived at the farmhouse when the first slivers of light were dully glittering over the abysmal night. The hulking abandoned house stood solemnly in the early morning shadows, as April apologetically scooted down from the driver's seat and flew ahead of them to unlock the doors.

The three gently eased Raphael's limp body out of the seat, with Mike hoisting his ankles, Donny bracing his arms and shell, and Leo cradling the wilted neck. They bore their brother's body up the steps, fearful of causing more injury, or hurt. April reappeared with a small mountain of sheets, quilts, pillows, anything she could find. It was a largely useless task…Raphael preferred the sparse, unadorned hammock to the insultingly fluffy quilts with flowers and whatnot. Indeed, April had protested rather loudly at their insistence of simply laying him down on the floor, until Donny pointed out that human beds were simply not accommodating to their shells.

That humans, biologically, had a relatively flat, flexible spine, and a turtle's curved shell simply did not bend. April's cheeks flared in embarrassment at missing such an obvious point. Donny tiredly waved off the stammered apology with as much politeness as he could manufacture. April has hastily arranged the bedding into a makeshift pallet, and together, the four of them lay Raphael down at last. April had stumbled yawning to the couch in the living room, and the three of them simply formed a protective circle around their brother and eventually drifted off.

That was two days ago. Two sleepless days that crawled on by, so treacherously slow. Here, in this small, cheery room, they kept their vigil over their brother, sometimes in impromptu shifts, sometimes changing out when it became unbearable to watch Raph just lay there. Leo's time in the room seemed to be the most volatile, as he either sat in rigid, rapt attention for the slightest change, or he roamed around the room, pacing like an agitated panther. Sometimes, Leo would simply sit down beside Raphael's mattress, and just lay a hand on the battered shell, whispering something. Mikey never knew if it was an apology, or a prayer, and he thought it too intrusive to ask. Raphael responded to Leo's pleadings much in the same way as he responded to Donny's monitoring, or Mike's achingly bad jokes, or April's protective, constant rearranging of his blankets.

He didn't.

Swallowing hard, Mike finally scraped up enough guts to scoot closer to Raphael, with something akin to fear or pain, or both rumbling through his gut. He had spent as many hours as he could stand in this hollow room, but he had never once forced himself to actually _look. _Somehow, it seemed easier to simply stay at least three feet away from the wilted form in the sheets.

"Raph? Can you hear me, bro?" Even that soft, hopeful whisper seemed too loud. Raphael was barely visible for all the sheets and quilts they had swaddled him in. He lay curled on his least battered side, propped in place by the pillows they had layered around his flaccid, bruised arms and legs. The worst of these had been iced as best as they could manage. Raphael didn't flinch or move through what would have been excruciating if he were awake.

Mikey shook his head, knowing that Raph would have borne it with teeth-gritting, curt silence. Indeed, the only time that Raph seemed to keep his mouth shut was when they wanted him to talk. Timidly, Mike rocked back on his hunches, until there was only a few inches between him and Raph. Mike gently tugged the edge of the red blanket and carefully slid it downward,u til Raph's face and right shoulder were more visible.

His eyes watered anew. Raphael's face was half buried in the pillow, one hand folded under his chin, the other laying draped over the sheet. Donny had taken his mask off for an easier inspection of his head, and had apparently forgot to replace it. The mask was much a part of Raph's face as skin, and now….Mike scowled uneasily. It felt like Raph had been stripped of even that protection. His eyes were closed, not clenched shut. His mouth wasn't twisted in pain. Indeed, all his muscles seemed slack, and …dead.

Breath hitching in his lungs, tears and the wail barely choked back by the panic, Mike suddenly gripped the exposed shoulder and squeezed it. Raph's body tremored under his shaking fist, but his shoulder was still the familiar corded tendons and warmth that suggested life. Normally, Raphael would have exploded from the cozy nest like a pissed bird, and would have landed with fists already raised at being touched. But now, there was only the placid stillness that made Raph look more and more like an alabaster carving on a grave stone and less like the living brother Mike ached to have back.

"Raph?" It was pleading as Mike lay a palm over the unbruised eye, and gently cupped his brother's cold forehead. Mike nearly yelped when he felt the sharp flicker of muscle in Raph's brow as his eye ridges arched downward into a line. Raph's mouth twisted itself into a grimace, and his even breath suddenly broke off with a small sound, laced with protest. Mike watched in disbelief as Raph flinched at the touch, and then faltered back into stillness again. The small groan that sounded like irritation was glorious to Mikey's ears.


	5. Silenced

Author's note: This is my first attempt to write a character in first person narrative. It is written from Raphael's viewpoint when Leonardo is keeping watch. I hope that I have kept Raphael in character, and I apologize if this is not up to par. Thank you- CM.

_Raphael's view:_

Everything just felt damn broken and wrong. Everything, from the way that my brothers had wrapped me in all this fluffy blankets, to the way I couldn't answer them back. Geeze, Leo, yell at me! Scream at me, annoy the hell out of me with another one of your big brother, holier than thou speeches you give me all the time.

But, damn it, Leo, quit with the blaming yourself, will ya? I promise you, big brother, when I finally crawl my way out of this state I'm in, I'll let you tear into me all you want, on any subject. I'll even keep my yap shut. At least then, I'd know what the hell to do. I know how to handle you being pissed at me, I know how to handle your gnawing on my last nerve, like some pitbull with a bone. But I don't know how to handle you sitting there, looking so helpless and lost, and tearing up over _me._

I ain't worth that much anguish, Leo. Never have been, and as much as I try, I never will be, either. Why is it so hard for you to get it through your thick head that you didn't do this to me? It's so like you, to take on hurts and problems, and things that have nothing to do with you, and stew on them in some mental angst fest. I don't know why you torture yourself with it, Leo. It's never done ya good, besides drive you crazy. I wanted to slug you, you know that? I wanted to punch that broken, gutted look you keep every time you come in this room. I hate it, Leo, and I hate myself for putting you through this. But, you were never good at giving up things that you felt obligated to keep, regardless of how damn dumb it is, or how much it hurts you. You never did know when to let go, did you?

I've had a lot of time and practice knowing how to sharpen things, how to break them down and see your walls crumble with a few well tossed words. It's the only way I feel safe around you, do you know that, Leo? Being around you when you're pissed, or disappointed in me is like trying to juggle knives. It only takes one little screw up to be cut open and exposed. I know, I know, you have to shoulder the responsibility for all of us, and having such a damn hothead for a brother feels like a noose around your neck. You've made that clear, with every accusation, with every private conference with Master Splinter, with every time you've tried to "reason with me." Screw that. Why the hell didn't you just call it what it really was? Another episode of "things Raphael has done wrong, today" courtesy of my big brother, Leo. One more flaying session, of you picking at me until I get so pissed, my two options are leave, or punch somebody. Staying there and duking it out with you would have been stupid. How many bruises would it take you to finally realize that it ain't your problem all the time? I ain't like you and Donny. I don't have all those fancy words and that irritating ability to escape blame by pretending the only thing wrong here is_ me._ I hate having so much broken between us, Leo. But damned if I know how to fix it. It just seems that for whatever reason, we just can't move beyond who we are.

And, now here we are, in this hot little room. I'm wrapped up like a present in these girly sheets,helpless, and even if I can't open my eyes and answer you, I can hear you. I've never heard you sound so….lost. You're speaking to me now, in just a whisper, as if any sound louder than that will break me. Come off it, Leo. Give me a little credit here, will ya? I'm still breathing, I'm still _here._

"_Raph? I don't know if you can hear me_." Your voice sounds like it's been scraped from the back of your throat. I can hear you, Leo, I just can't answer you. And I have a nagging suspicion that if I could talk back, you wouldn't be spewing this stuff now.

"_I know you and I have had our problems. I don't know why you and I tried so hard, and failed so miserably to get along. Maybe it was because I never understood that you weren't angry at the world, you were hurt by it. Maybe it's because I couldn't get that you didn't hate me, you were just sick of always having to defend yourself against the rest of us. I'm so sorry that you felt like the only you had to survive your own family was to keep running from us. Was that what drove you to the roof?"_

You've just stopped, probably to gather a breath, your thoughts, maybe some more fuel for another rant. What the hell, Leo? They may have kicked my head around like a soccer ball, but this is pretty thick, even for you. When will you understand that it was never you I was running from? It was _me,_ brother…..it was always _me._ What drove me to the roof is the same thing that's driving your confession now. It's who we are, Leo. And until you get that, you're only going to keep tying yourself into these mental knots until you eventually strangle yourself. Escaping the moments by leaving is nothing new for me. The only thing that makes this bit of nastiness worth noting is that I nearly died.

"_Why did you need to escape us, again, Raph? Did you really feel that trapped by us? Did we really alienate you to the point that you wanted the roof over us_?"

Hearing you sound like this is hell, Leo. Absolute hell. I needed that distance to protect you from how truly screwed in the head I am. Would it have made you feel better if I stayed around and let you see my hissy fits in their full, bone-busting glory? Would you stop torturing yourself then?

"_Raph, I'm so damn sorry. If I could have saved you, if I could trade places with you now, I would."_

Oh, hell no, you wouldn't. I wouldn't let you do that, Leo. I couldn't! Ya really think any of this would be easier if you were the one laying here, all busted up, and almost dead? You really think I'd be that selfish and cruel? The one thing that makes any of this bearable is it's me enduring this and not any of you. I'm one vindictive bastard, I know. You know what the worst thing has been so far, Leo? It wasn't the pain. It wasn't having my skull nearly broken like a watermelon. It wasn't even falling through the skylight. It was those last moments before I blacked out. It was seeing all of your faces hovering over me, it was seeing April crying like I was worth it, it was seeing Mike and Donny's fear that I had already died, and it was seeing you staring down at me, in tears. Believe me, Leo, if I couldn't handle seeing all of you hurt like that, I wouldn't want it inflicted on you. It would break you in ways that no beating ever could.

"_But I cant, little brother. All I can do is sit here and plead and pray that you can hear me, that you'll somehow harness that stubborn streak, and pull through this."_

Oh, Leo, stop it with the waterworks! _Please, stop! _I never wanted it to be like _this. _How the hell did things get so wrong between us that it took nearly losing me to be this honest? Why did you wait until I've been broken to this point to decide you didn't hate me? And what sort of bastard am I to be angry with you for saying it now?"

"_I love you, Raph."_

I've never heard your voice sound so pleading, so torn, Leo. All this time, I thought I was nothing more to you than a damn burden to bear, a pain in the ass to put up with. I never, ever thought that you gave a damn, until now. And for the first time, I believe it.

I feel your fingers, almost fearfully gripping mine when you say that. And I feel the hopeless slump as they go flat and nearly slip away.

It almost hurts as much to move my hand. It's curled and clenched and nearly locked up, with the state I'm in. Can't be helped. It feels like I'm trying to lift a mountain, to force my fingers to open and touch yours. _Oh, damn it hurts_…

But it's worth it, to feel that brief flicker of skin beneath my fingers, to hear that hope soaring back into your head, if only for a moment.

I'm so damn sorry, Leo. It's all I got right now. I love you, too, big brother. I just hope you get that.


	6. Unspoken:Leonardo

For the Leo Lovers-

"_You__ did not do this to Raphael. You wouldn't. It's not your fault that Raph was on the roof. It's not Raph's fault this happened. The only blame and responsibility lies with the psychopaths who tried to kill him. Not Raph, and not__ you_."

The words rang hollow, leached into my core, and became unbearable to hear. I know that Donnatello meant them kindly, as some well-intentioned attempt to sooth my increasing anguish that seemed to grow in proportion to Raphael's helplessness. It was so bitterly shameful to admit to how fragmented, and powerless I had become in the span of three days. Everything in me warred and railed at the helplessness of the whole thing, to save Raphael, to restore him, to bring my brothers peace, and stop their agonizing uncertainty. I couldn't face the possibility of Raphael leaving us. At the moment, I couldn't even stand to see him so helpless. We had always been four brothers, and that, until now, that had been as rooted in the universe as the sky above my head, and the earth beneath my feet. If Raphael died….

I choked the thought out of existence as the world blurred anew with tears. Helplessly, I turned to face the path home, and halted before I even started. If I couldn't even reign in my own inner storms, it was useless of me to attempt helping then navigate theirs. I felt guilty for not immediately returning, but I honestly needed the solitude to collect myself. I only hoped they would forgive me for it.

"_You__ did not do this to Raphael. You wouldn't. It's not your fault that Raph was on the roof. It's not Raph's fault this happened. The only blame and responsibility lies with the psychopaths who tried to kill him. Not Raph, and not__ you_."

The words, and their aftermath would still be waiting when I came back. Donnatello had always been such a reassuring voice of rationality. I envied his ability to harness his intellect and dissect the events of anything unpleasant into a more manageable thing of parts to be fixed, components that neatly fit together when looked at intellectually. I know it was Donny's attempt at comfort, but I still felt an irrational surge of anger. This was not a situation to be reduced to its essential components. Regardless of how many abstract factors and constructs assembled, they did nothing to negate the cruel reality of Raphael's condition. Uneasily, I ran my thumb over my fingers, recoiling at the thought that Raphael's grip-one that could break bones with a well-placed squeeze-had been reduced to that one flicker of movement. And when his hand resumed its relaxed slump, despite my pleas, I couldn't stand any more. It was uncertainty and hope, balanced like the katanas I wielded, on a blade's edge and each one warring in my thoughts until I had to surrender to one or fracture under it all.

It was hope. Faltering, easily dismissed hope, but a bit of something to cling to in all of this anguish. It was far easier to picture Raphael slowly clawing his way back to us, in his own time, in his own way, than simply drifting deeper into that deathlike slumber. There's so many tortured questions that flit unbidden through my thoughts, so many haunted recollections of mistakes I've made, wounds I've inflicted, anguish I've caused…..What a brutal thing it is to realize the magnitude of my failures, when I may no longer be able to make them right. Despite the comforting denial of Donny and Mikey, Raphael would have never ventured onto a roof top in broad daylight if he wasn't trying to escape me.

I drew in a hissed breath, recoiling at the echoing sound of shattered glass, and the reverberating thud as my brother's corpse lay splayed at our feet. Even now, I still have a bit of merciful denial that allows me the limited means to see Raphael so much a creature of action, of fire, of irritating restlessness. My brother Raphael was not the wrecked, breathing shell I had left in my mad flight to escape the horror. The tears rose, and blurred the world, smearing the sunlight into a torpid haze.

I would have gladly sacrificed myself if it meant I could keep my three brothers safe. How many times had I hurled myself between them and our enemies with those intentions? Each scar, each broken bone, every sleepless night and each wound I bore was for them, gladly. And if I had the choice to do it all again, and keep them safe, to spare them this hell, I would consider the exchange far too cheap.

For all the envy that Raphael had snarled at me over the years, for all his open doubting, and constant questioning of my leadership…there was nothing that Raphael could have done to wound me more deeply than falling victim to something I fought so hard to keep from happening. For all these years, he had seen me as nothing more than a chokehold, a noose tying him down, keep him in line, force his submission, and keep him imprisoned. He never viewed me as his brother, but as his captor.

I had tried, and failed so many times to move beyond the savage and predictable routines of exchanging sniper fire when we used to converse. It was as if the authority Splinter had foisted upon me had severed any love between us, and poisoned it to rivalry, bitterness, and seething, unspoken distance. When Raphael stopped spewing the sarcasm, and defending himself, and I gave up my weary, faltering attempts to reach some sort of understanding, we simply stopped trying. It was the only thing left between us.

There were no words left to say, no balm to sooth the unforgiveness, no happy ending, aside from the obligated necessities. Our conversations had dwindled to a few curt, polite exchanges, flat attempts to maintain the normalcy, and spare our brothers the true reality of our mutual hatred.

It was another uneasy contradiction I had to bear in silence. Despite all the venom between us, Raphael did a masterful job of concealing it from Donny and Mike. Our brothers were the perpetual noose and tether that kept us from severing all ties completely. His love for them was enough to overcome his dislike for me.

"_Why is it always like this, Raphael? Why is it so difficult for you to get it through your thick head that we are a team, and we have to work as one? You wouldn't be even be injured if you had just-"_

_I stop in frustration._

_Raphael' s head abruptly jerks up, as his hands still from tying the bandage around his calf. He had done a flying kick, and by a complete fluke, had somehow impaled his leg on a Foot weapon. It was a puncture wound, slowly trickling red through the bandages. He had slathered some antibiotic on it, and simply wrapped it, and left it to bleed after Donny had examined it._

_There's nothing but that hitch of breath, the anger rising as he swells up and gets to his feet to face me. He winces from the pain as he limps over to face me. I bite back the order for him to stop risking further injury and just sit down._

_Raphael's eyes narrow and darken like a storm cloud, as he slides his burning eyes to meet mine. His fists curl instinctively, as he throws his head back, and the breath explodes from his nostrils in one enraged grunt. He stops inches from me, and shuts his eyes in an attempt to control his rage. I can actually see it rippling through the muscles around his neck, as he tenses his bowed head, and finally snarls out, softly._

"_Ya think your head is thick enough to not be sliced like a wata-melon, Leo?" His eyes narrow to glittering slits, as he sneers at my confusion._

"_He was aimin' at your head, Leo. I didn't have the time to do more than block it. Excuse me all to hell for carin', will ya? Next time, I'll just let one of them use yore head as a pincushion. Would that make ya happy, finally?"_

_He groaned in pain as standing became too much and he tried to flop down indifferently. I sighed in anguished understanding, chafing under my now clearly stupid and cruel assumptions as Raphael glared up at me. He just shook his head in disgust as he tried to arrange his limb in a less painful position._

" _the hell is with you, Leo?" I flinched at the questioning, hurt undertone, as Raphael grimaced at his leg._

"_Ya always assume the worst about me. Why?"_

_Because I could never understand you, because I couldn't save you, because it was so much easier to blame you than see how much looking at you was looking at myself, and everything I was not….._

_I just pursed my lips, and shook my head, retreating back to the more familiar territory of condescending, paternal chiding._

"_Because your safety is my responsibility, Raphael, and you always make it so damn difficult for me to do that." It was a well-rehearsed speech that I could conjure on instinct now. And probably the most infuriating thing I could say to Raphael. He stiffened in surprise, obviously expecting a fight, some concern, maybe gratitude…I did not know, and I was too stricken to ask._

"_Leo-" It was almost pleading as he stared up at me, eyes huge and hurting from the sudden dismissal of the real issue between us._

"_I'm yore __**brother**__, Leo. Not yore pain in the ass target for everythin', not your responsibility, yore brother."_

_I stayed silent, because I had no idea how to put into words how much it hurt to look at him, bleeding for something that was meant for me. I had no idea how to put into words how paralyzing it was to see him __**hurt.**_

"_That won't change. So, ya gonna have to find a way to work around it, cuz damned if I know what to do about ya any more, Leo."_

_He hobbled to his feet, gave me one last look with a shake of his head, and limped out of the room. He never knew that I saw his tears, and I had turned away before he had seen mine._

And now, here I am, in this field, spinning like a tornado as I attempt to find normalacy in hell. My katanas slice the air, I twirl them until they become arcs of silvered light, trailing after me in my well-controlled, but erratic path.

I crouch down to the earth, heave a deep, cleansing breath, focus. The emotions siphon off to a more bearable emptiness. I leap high with a cry, arching my katanas in one smooth motion of perfect unison. They flicker like lightening after a storm when I finally come back to the earth, the dull ache rolling through my bowels like thunder.

I pause to study to sheen of sweat that's started to pool in dark rings on my guards. The sweat begins its slow, cleansing trickle. I renew my fighting stance, one foot aloft, the other bent to propel me forward into the next dizzying distraction.


	7. Asleep:Donnatello

The small, cheerful room still held the silence and the waiting of the tomb, and I honestly did not know if I would be approaching my brother's comatose state, or his corpse. It's a question that has plagued me every time I resume my monitoring, the useless watching, and search for answers. I halted at the doorway, paused to assess the situation, and restrain my increasingly troubled thoughts. The morning sunlight was streaming through the gingham curtains, refracting over the glass. It was oddly soothing. One shaft of light lanced like a spear over the curve of Raphael's shell, lingered there, before sliding down to halo his serene, still face. I trembled when the clouds passed over the sun, and the shadows of the room shifted again. Much had been made at my supposedly limitless intelligence, my ability to alchemize science and reason into miracles. I had bridged worlds of unknown power, and potential in my thirst for knowledge, and understanding. I had transversed the heights and the depths of all I knew, medically, spiritually, physiologically, in the few days that I had been here to find something….anything..that could over the slenderest possibility of helping Raphael. I had read books, I had made phone calls, had sent April to the local veterinarian for the scant supplies that could, in theory, make a difference. And from those books, those phone calls, the terrifying bit of what I already knew about the nature of head trauma- I kept to myself the true horror of the most likely outcome.

_if areas of the brain have been sufficiently damaged due to the severity or duration of the condition which led to the coma, the individual may recover from the coma with permanent __disabilities__, or may even never regain consciousness_.

The words were so sparse, so clear and so very brittle as the page suddenly blurred with my tears. I tried to reassure myself that it was only a possibility, not a prophesy. Raphael had only been in a coma-if that was the true nature of his condition-for three days. I tried to recount the hopeful, minute signs that I had gathered up and treasured over the span of time-Leo's insistence that Raphael had actually squeezed his hand, Mike's report that Raphael had grunted in what sounded like irritation. True, it could have been a collection of nothing more but disjointed reflexes, the death throws of nerve endings and the last severing of Raphael's frail tether to us. It could have been Raphael's slow attempts to return to us. It could have been hinting of life, or death. As hellish as it was for me to admit to myself, I had no means of knowing for sure.

. _In the event of a more severe brain injury, with swelling which resulted in further pressure on areas of the brain, an individual may regain consciousness, but may have some degree of impairment. The impairment may be physical (such as paralysis of a leg) or may even result in a change in the individual's intellectual functioning and/or personality._

It felt like reading a death sentence for my brother. Raphael's body was his instrument, his relentless energy, and movement and fire was what defined my stubborn, sarcastic, and very, very loved brother. To see any of that fracture under the weight of a crippled mind or body, to think of Raphael imprisoned in his own body was too cruel to contemplate, or voice. I had been very careful to keep the more grim details of what Raphael's head trauma could do. Mikey accepted my words as truth, and mercifully clung to his optimistic belief that Raphael was only hours or moments away from suddenly springing forth from the bed, sais twirling, sarcasm being hurled, a resurrection back to normalcy.

It was hell for all of us, of course. We were brothers, held together by the slender existence, and the fierce understanding that we were alone in the world. What was killing one of us was killing us all. And while Raphael was clearly the worst off, Leonardo seemed to be so broken that he was not too far behind.

Leonardo had cornered me earlier in the afternoon, quietly demanding to know all possible outcomes, including the grim information that I had garnered from the medical texts, and various phone calls. And, stupidly, honestly, I had explained it. It was a horrific error in judgment. I knew only a second or so after I had told Leonardo.

Leonardo, for all of his irritating, insatiable ability to rest in thought, or action until he knew all the details, had only flinched as if struck, his mouth twisting as if choking off a scream. I saw his jaw tremble, as he clamped a fist over it, as if to hold back the words, and his shoulders started quivering. Bowing his head, I heard the grinding, keening whimper as he turned away in a futile attempt to stop me from seeing the tears.

It was unbearable, to have one brother, possibly dying, and the other one so shattered by his guilt and anguish that I honestly wondered if it were possible to lose two brothers. It was completely instinctive, and out of my more reserved nature to embrace Leonardo in that impulsive moment. I felt the rigid shudder as he quivered in my arms, his heart thundering like the wing beats of a terrified bird. He quivered against me for a moment, and then slumped against my shoulder, the sobs fragmented and stifled in his attempt to keep some semblance of control. Even now, when he was too shattered to do anything more than weep on my shoulder, he was still trying to control his grief.

"Leo." I said as gently as I could, "Let it out."

I felt his head jerk sharply in negation against my collar bone, the thin whisper slivered out in agony:

"I….I can't!"

I felt his whole body lurch, felt his hands brace against my forearms, and gently shoved my grip away. He looked at me, his dark eyes ravaged and helpless as he shook his head in sorrow and apology.

"Donny-"There was the strangled plea as he inched away. "I'm sorry, I _**can't-"**_

He made a high, keening sound that scraped the very air, as he cupped a hand over his jaw and buried both fists beneath his chin. He stood there, rooted to the ground, wounded, and helplessly pleading.

"Not in here, Don…not in front of **him…" **He gestured wildly to Raphael, as I shook my head in anguished understanding. I didn't have the cruelty, or the courage to tell Leonardo that Raphael probably couldn't hear us. I didn't tell him that Raphael was as far beyond our reach as the stars in heaven are from the earth or that the distance that lay between us and our beloved, fiery brother was ever-widening with each passing day. Each moment spent in that coma was one moment further away from us.

Poor Raphael still slumbered on, heedless at this display of unbearable grief on his behalf. Maybe it was a perverse mercy. I narrowed my eyes, in scrutiny, trying to find decipher the facets of the situation, and what could possibly be done. Leonardo kept up his silent, wretched weeping, unable to leave, or stay, as he buried his face in his hands. I watched his wan, shadowed face, the eyes nearly leached of life and the sheer weariness that could only confound the misery.

I sighed, relieved. Here, at last, was something I could fix.

"Leo, when was the last time you slept?" I said it softly, and tried to keep the paternal irritation out of my voice. He shook his head, and answered, apologetically with a hitch of his shoulders.

"I haven't."

I raised an eyebrow of irritation, as he wilted in misery, clearly expecting a barrage of castigation for his stupidity of not taking care of himself. I felt the corner of my mouth quirk. Of the four of us, Leo and Raphael were the most verbose in their tirades, especially when attempting to converse with each other.

Leo hitched his shoulders again. "I'm sorry, Don." It sounded as if he were pleading for absolution from every imagined wrong that was never his to claim.

"Don, it's not just because I feel obligated to stay awake and take care of Raphael. I honestly can't sleep."

I nodded in silent understanding, and lay a reassuring hand on his shaking shoulder.

"Leo, would you like me to get you something that will help you get some rest?"

There was that hesitant sigh, the brief moment of his warring thoughts as he glanced at Raphael, and the room around him. He shut his eyes and exhaled.

"Could you, please?"

I nodded, and gestured towards the chair. "I'll be back in a few minutes, alright?" He only nodded as he obediently slid into the chair, waiting.

It didn't take me long to procure what was needed, a couple of tablets, and, as an added kindness, my paltry attempt at making a cup of soothing tea. It was nothing more than flavored water. Splinter was the one who had the ability to make tea. My heart clenched at his absence anew. Would any of this ever be right again?

I forced my troubled thoughts back into the more familiar rationality. I knew that it was a comfort to my brothers to view my intellect as some sort of deep well of miracles, where I could magically snatch from the depths of wisdom the answer and simply harness it for the solution. If only it were that simple, and I were that capable. Surely they all knew that if I had the ability to make any of this right, I would have done so by now.

I entered the room, and stopped in mild surprise to see April kneeling beside Raphael. Her eyes widened when she met mine, and she scooted away, her hand dropping from its protective drape on Raphael's shell. Clearly, she felt like an intruder, as she apologetically rose and glanced at both us uneasily.

I gave her a reassuring smile, and greeted her politely. She gave me a tentative smile, and a nod, before she flicked her worried eyes to my stricken brothers.

"Don?" I turned to Leo's timid inquiry, as he uneasily swept a hand towards the floor. "Would it be alright if I slept in here? I know that I need the rest, but it'd be easier for me if I knew what was going on with Raph."

April gave him a soft smile of understanding, as she suddenly wrapped Leo in a fierce embrace. He stiffened uneasily, before shutting his eyes, and surrendered to the gesture, laying both hands across her spine, and cautiously hugged her back.

"He's going to be okay, Leo."

It was a whispered invocation that broached no argument as she finally stepped away and regarded him with tears. Leonardo regarded her solemnly, and forced a nod. "Of course, April." It was bravely spoken, and absolutely flaccid of any conviction. April's smile crumbled a bit, as she pat his shoulder once more. Leonardo finally forced his lips to curl into a semblance of a grateful smile, as he awkwardly lay a hand over hers.

"Thank you, April."

April's eyes watered again as she suddenly withdrew. Hastily, she announced, "I'll get your bedding, alright?"

April swirled out of the room before either one of us could answer. Leo stared after her, and softly whispered, "It's a shame that more humans aren't like her." He gave me a wan smile.

I was about to hand him the tea as April came back, arms filled with a virtual mountain of assorted bedding that all looked both homespun and comfortable.

"Leo, why don't you find a spot somewhere, and I'll help you get bedded down for the night, okay?"

April did not wait for his answer as she tossed the wad onto the floor, and began folding out the biggest quilt as sort of a pallet, and did not stop arranging the bedding until she was satisfied it would be comfortable. Leo raised an eyebrow ridge, wryly.

"Do you want to tuck me in, April?"

Eyes rolling heavenward, she only shook her head with a small, biting chuckle, and I smirked in amusement at the small exchange. Leo's joke was a small, but hopeful sign that he wasn't as broken as I had previously believed. It was a bit of much needed light in an otherwise dark situation.

The sparkle of laughter was all too brief, as Leo's eyes swept over Raphael. He shook his head, his eyes sliding upward to meet mine, as he grimly asked, "Donny, do you have the sedative?"

I held my palm out, and showed the two sizable tablets. Leo almost timidly took them, and stared at them for a long moment. Uneasily, he asked me, "Are these very strong?"

"It's fairly mild dosage wise, but you've not slept in days, Leo. It will definitely make you sleep for a while."

Leo's shoulders slumped, as he shut his eyes. "Good." He whispered. Grimly, he tossed them into his mouth, swallowed hard, and drank a few brackish sips of the tepid tea. He was too kind to mention the foul taste, downing it all with one swallow. He handed the glass back to me with a sad, grateful smile.

"How long will it take for them to work, Don?"

"You won't have to wait long, Leo. But you would probably find getting into bed to be more conducive to sleep than standing here."

Leo looked at Raphael, troubled, as he turned to April and I, again. "You'll be able to wake me if something happens to him?"

April and I exchanged glances, as she mercifully took charge of the task of coaxing my recalcitrant brother to rest.

"Leo, Don gave you enough to help you get some sleep, not tranquilize an elephant. We'll watch over Raph, and we will wake you up if anything happens. Now, lay down, and get some rest before you pass out standing up. Please?"

She waved a hand pointedly at the bedding. Leonardo shut his eyes, tiredly, and lowered himself to his side, as April gently stooped to gather up the blankets. Together, we covered my brother, as he owlishly blinked up at us. Clearly, the sedative was finally fulfilling its intended function, as he gazed up at me with those hooded, beseeching eyes. I saw his eyes widen when I lowered myself to the floor beside him, and folded my legs into a more comfortable position.

"Go to sleep, Leo. I'm not leaving you-or Raph-to face this alone."

The blanket shifted, and I was both surprised, and touched to see April seating herself beside Leo and Raphael. I nodded in gratitude, as she protectively lay one hand on of each of my brothers.

"Leo, it's alright. Just relax." Her voice was apparently soothing to him, because the tense way he held his body gradually surrendered into the relaxed slump. I heard his thick words, slurred out, before he finally drifted off.

"Thank you."


	8. Awareness:Raphael

Laying here in these girly sheets like a damn invalid would normally be embarrassing as hell. Layin' here like a limp rag, having my brothers and April watching me do nothing but lay here and sob was irritating at first, but now, it scares the hell out of me. It's startin' to feel like I'm at my own funeral, with my body as the coffin, and _me,_ if it's spirit, soul, or mind, or whatever, already lost to them. It's been four days now. Four days of me layin' here, four days of me being forced to listen to all the things that they would only say if they know I can't answer. It ain't fair-what with Leo's constant boo-hoo fests about how he's somehow to blame, Mikey's weird attempts at making things normal with his jokes, and Donny's constant wound checking, and April's fussing… I hate this. I hate doing this to them.

I can't answer back. Hell, I can't even move on my own, besides the finger flex that almost made Leo lose it. I was only trying to let him know that I'm _still here._ I never meant to trigger his waterworks. I never meant for any of this to happen, damn it!

I've only got the blurry bits of memory to cobble together some idea of what's happened. I remembered the rooftop, the glare of the sun, the way the light played on my sais as I raised them up and went through a few mindless attempts to cool off. Leo's argument was still fresh enough to piss me off, and I was stupidly going through my drills, trying to flush the anger into the bone-breaking kicks, the roar of the city, the slither of traffic. It was always one of the few things that took the edge off of my rage. I remember staring out over the threads of highways, watching those cars full of people, who were free to exist in daylight, who didn't live the half life of only coming out at night, and spending days in the tomblike sewers. The thing that pissed me off was the realization that I was protecting the keepers of my own effin' cage. It didn't matter how much blood I spilled on their behalf or how many I protected. The humans would never let us exist in their world.

I don't remember what it was that made me turn around….maybe it was a shadow sliding funny, a footfall, an out of place breath. All I knew for sure was that the back of my neck rippled with the sudden awareness that I wasn't alone.

I leapt around, sais drawn, and found myself surrounded. There were just too many of those pajama clad pansies for me to fight my way free. I sure as hell wasn't going to call my brothers and let them get hurt on account of me being so stupid for getting caught.

I tried sarcasm. I tried punching the few stupid ones who got too close. I threatened, warned, and evaded, and even tried to leap away to avoid getting my ass kicked. Heh. Diplomacy never was my strong suit.

I remember bending to the ground, and then taking the flying leap skyward, pitching myself into the roll of the flip over their heads, the glittering line of the chain as it latched onto the edge of my shell, and then, falling back to the earth like a rock.

I landed on my back, stunned, the twang of the blow throbbing through my nerves, the shudder of fear roiling through me, as I tried to scramble to my feet, tried to roll, tried to do _anything_…..

It was when they had me pinned down that I finally understood how truly screwed I was. It was then that one of them cackled and belted the back of my skull with a pair of knuckle busters. I was already woozy from my cannon ball like drop to the concrete, and I toppled.

Concrete against my cheek, scraping pieces of my shell away as they grabbed me to position me better for another round. Icy ache and fracturing bones. Breath coming in gasps because I couldn't scream. Being held down and hurting as they laughed and kept at it.

I don't know how many times I was whacked in the head in the fight…I lost count about the time I lost my footing, and after that, everything was nothing but a broken blur of punches, everywhere. Pain breaking over me, like water on a rock. Being held down and helpless and so effing scared that those were my last moments. My last time to look up and see the sky, my last chance to say my sorries and good-byes and love yous to my brothers. My last moments, of life, and they were spent being a punching bag. The sad thing is, I never really thought of my final exit until then, and I sure as hell didn't want to be like _that. _ I always thought that I would have been the first one to be taken. When you're the hothead, the explosion waiting to happen, the one who runs on fighting, and adrenaline, and rage, you come to the rather welcome understanding that you won't live to be old. I always told my brothers I'd go down fighting. But, after going through this, I realize now, how truly stupid it is to want to die like this. It's hell enough going through it once.

You'd think at some point, I would have at least been lucky enough to black out through some of it. That at some point, when I could only grunt out a plea to stop, when I could only whimper instead of scream, when I couldn't stand, or even flinch away that it would have been _enough_…..

But it wasn't. It never could be, and I was an idiot for thinking that just because they had nearly killed me already that they would be satisfied.

Hell, no.

I remember being lifted. I remember feeling the thoughts slide into the realization that they had my dangling arms and legs in their hands, and they were dragging me somewhere, and the dull shimmer of the black skylight beneath me.

I saw my wilted, bruised, bloodied up face, and I couldn't understand that I was looking at me. They swung me high, and I choked when I felt them let go.

Falling. Seconds of emptiness, of attempting to pull my arms and legs into a landing position, of staring at the floor and realizing that I was seconds away from colliding with it. No time to do much but wonder if I would survive the crash _landing_. And, when I hit, wishing I hadn't.

_PAIN! _

It splintered up my side, laced into my screaming bones, broke over my breath, shattered me literally.

_It HURTS. Somebody make it stop-_

Hands at my throat, somebody screaming my name, somebody else groping my skin in search of a heartbeat….

Broken bones, or something fractured. From the fiery ache of everything, I couldn't tell what was left undamaged. I could only whimper at the call of my name, I could only choke out a breath-

_Please, PLEASE MAKE IT STOP!_

I had never begged for anything in my life, never prayed, never needed to before that. I guess the Almighty decided I had enough, because I finally faded into the merciful black.

Slithering awareness. Soft voices, hands on me that didn't hurt, pain that I felt as a dull ache, rather than the bone-snapping agony. Warm blankets instead of concrete. Protection in place of fear. I knew my brothers were there even before I could understand it.

Days awash with futile attempts to claw back into awareness. The occasional flicker of movement that left me exhausted, and made me sleep again. Inch by aching inch of fighting like hell to come back to them.

A searing ache as I blinked against the strange, golden light, and the shock of realizing that I had finally succeeded in opening my eyes.


	9. Clouding of Consciousness:Raphael

Author's Note: I don't know how confusing it would be to emerge from a coma with substantial injuries, but I imagine it would be disorienting to say the least. Please keep this in mind when reading this.

_Raphael's viewpoint:_

The light was hitting my open eyes like a sledge hammer. I slammed them back shut with a wince, and had to wait for the aching smear of white to clear. I felt the sheets beneath me, and just stared, stupidly around the room, the strange ceiling, the wood floor, not knowing where the hell I was, or how I got here. Awareness slithering over the numbing ache flared to blunted, quaking _pain. _My muscles were cramped and bent from being in the same position, and each one of them nearly convulsed as I jerked in shock. Even my bones were screaming. I couldn't move even if I had the strength or the gumption at that point. Sensations rippled through me like a shotgun blast, as my head throbbed and the world slid beneath me. I shut my eyes…it was just too damn much.

The breath ended in a grunt that rammed against my clenched teeth like a pissed bull. Breath that felt like a boulder banging against my broken ribs, and hurt when I finally let it go. Laying there, no thoughts, no nothing, lingering in that weird, numbing haze.

_Help…._

Fractured. Broken. My bones, my awareness, everything around me was fragmented and too damn scattered at the moment for me to make any sense of it. Thinking, at that point, was just too much of a pain in the ass. My brain was drowning in the tidal wave of awareness, of skin on the floor, of throbbing bones and weird bruises. Shards of memory, of falling, of dying, of the dark, and now laying here, slowly crawling back to someplace that was safer. Images of my brothers, sliding over the dark, and burning like a halo over the confusion. It was something to hold onto.

_Safe here. I'm safe…._

Another whimper tore from my throat when I saw that that I was alone, and so damn lost. The blanket tucked around my arms felt like shackles. And, from the useless try to move my arms, they might as well be. Another breath, nearly a shrill whine of fear and loss as I grit my teeth against the rising panic that was clawing like an animal trying to get free. The breath hitched, and stabbed against my ribs.

The bright light slid into a blur as the tears welled up. I couldn't help it, damn it! I was helpless, broken, hurting, and had just re-emerged into nothing but confusion, and wounded, wounded fear. Maybe my brothers were only in the next room, but for those hellish moments, they might as well as have been as distant as the stars are from the earth. All I knew was that I was as alone then as I was alone on the rooftop, and it was more than I could handle.

The sob, when it finally made its way past my clamped jaws and shallow breaths, sliced the silence like a shard. Like a wounded animal, or a lost kid screaming for its mom. I didn't even know that I could even make a sound like that, and I hope to hell I never do again.

It should have been beneath me…I never whimpered, whined, or even acknowledged pain, even when it was crazy, even if I was gushing blood and obviously injured. Now, it was all I could do, and it wasn't enough. Damn it, I hated being brought this low.

_Please, somebody, come… _

I heard the footsteps on the very edge of my all too shaky awareness that was now threatening to collapse into oblivion. My name, spoken like a prayer, as I heard the dull thud of knees dropping to the floor beside me.

"Raph? You're awake!" A flare of awareness, of hope rose through the fear as the thoughts finally clicked into some sense.

Leo!

I heard the broken off hiss of shock from behind, hands sliding away the blankets as his shadow fell over me. And, the strange blurred edges of light were shifting from beige to green as he lowered his face to mine, until there was nothing but inches between us.

His eyes were filled and leaking, as he whispered my name again, wrapping me up, forgetting my battered side, clutching at me, hands stupidly jostling me, hurting me and not knowing that he was.

_Broken ribs that bent at the touch of my brother's hand at my side. It splintered into the strangled grunt, the useless attempt to curl up and flinch away . Overwrought nerves already crumbling from the onslaught of slowly emerging from hell._

Leo's arms went rigid by my side, and he gasped when I slid downward. Panicking, he grabs me, and hoists me up, probably thinking that he's saving me the hurt of falling back down on my battered side. The bright, searing flare of agony splintered through my ribs like lightening.

_Pain! Leo, let go! Please, please, let go! I can't stand being held, I can't stand having hands on me, it hurts.._

I recoiled, shuddered against it, the high, keening sound erupting from my throat. It's only a few seconds , but each one felt like hell for me, and for him. I heard the gasp of breath, saw his eyes shoot open, stricken, when he realizes that his kind gesture had gone so damn wrong.

Even in his panic, he still had the gumption to lay me back down gently. I can't do anything but shut my eyes, try to slow my breath into a more reassuring sound than the choke or the squeal.

I heard the soft curse, felt his hands flinch in horror. All I could hear was his pleading , sobbing apology as he shrieked for Donny and kept my hand in his, clutching it like a sinner who had found salvation.

"Raph….God, I'm _sorry_…" From somewhere, the thought that he's going to be even more guilt-ridden and suffering over me makes my heart lurch.

Leo's hand timidly ghosts over my wrist, as if he's afraid to touch me again, and yet, his hand in mine is the one thing that feels real in this entire blurry, hurting ache. I tighten my fingers against his, and try to talk. It only came out as a grunt that was almost too soft to hear. All the times that I had gotten into trouble for my big fat mouth, and now, I couldn't even form words to comfort my brother. Somehow, that hurts even more.

Leo tilted his head, as he carefully lay his hands on my shoulders. He lowered himself until we were only inches apart. He narrows his eyes, blinks back the tears, and searches my face. I just hope that my eyes can say what my mouth can't.

Another breath, scraped up from my depths as I felt the awareness crumble like a fault line. I warred against it, tried to stay awake, tried to _stay._ It feels like drowning, as the awareness ripples away like water, and I slide back into the dark. Everything, even my thoughts, feels numb, and heavy. Even the few minutes that I've been back have been exhausting as hell. I'm so tired that even keeping my eyelids open feels like I'm trying to move mountains up mountains.

_So damn tired..._ Leo and I stare at each other for the last few of my waking moments. Somehow, Leo understood, as he gently sighed in sad, peaceful acceptance.

At that point, it wouldn't have mattered much if I had his permission, or blessing to conk out, because I couldn't help it. My eyes slid shut, and stayed there. I felt his warm hand come to rest on my shoulder after he draped the blanket over me.

"It's alright, Raph. I know you're coming back to us." For the first time in what seemed forever, Leo spoke with that certainty that I once found irritating, and now, loved. "I know that you're tired, Raph, and you need the rest to keep fighting. Go ahead and sleep. It's alright."

The darkness, the dizziness, the heavy, aching throb of my skull finally dragged me back down into the oblivion. I felt it gently fragment under Leo's steadying hands as he ran fingers over my unwounded arm, in those slow, soothing circles. I tried to latch on his touch, his voice, tried to cling to it, and the promise that I would hear it again soon. I stopped fighting the roaring dark as it came and swallowed me again, with my last thought flitting away unnoticed.

_I can't stop the dark. I can't stay... I'm sorry, Leo. I'm sorry._


	10. Flicker: Leonardo

There was a time, a precious few days ago, when I never would have watched Raphael for something as mundane as a movement. It seems like forever ago that I would have relished the silence, the stillness, and be foolish enough to think it peaceful. There was nothing peaceful about Raphael now. His stillness hinted of death, and he looked serene as a breathing corpse.

And, now, here I was, clinging to my brother's hand, wavering between frail hope and irrational desperation for a sign, however minute, that my brother was still _there._ I don't know how long I stared stupidly at my hands. How was it possible that my hands, that so elegantly welded a katana as if it were an extension of my own flesh, could cause Raphael so much pain? He had taken blows that would normally kill a human without so much as a grunt of acknowledgement. He had survived injuries with a sickening ease, fueled on by his perverse pride. Each wound he had suffered reduced all of us to unseen tears on more than one occasion. Raphael flaunted the scars across his battered shell as if they were badges of honor, paid for by our anguish. The regularity of breath being the one indication that he was still with us, and that he might return. Mikey had grown restless, and I had heard his footsteps over the floorboards above my head. I had excused myself to prepare a quick lunch of a sandwich, and a small respite from the weight of wondering if Raphael was going to live. That was what tortured us all. Were Raphael-God forbid- to succumb to his injuries, his death would be hell for us to endure, but at least we would have the solace of knowing he was no longer suffering. There would be the certainty of an ending, however cruel. I had left those horrific thoughts at the door way, when I had entered into the room to begin the long, and countless hours of watching Raphael.

I was ready to take my usual place, with my back to the bright arching window, a few feet from where Raphael still lay cocooned in his pallet. The silence in the room, until then, had only been broken by the strains of birdsong, or the branches scraping against the window. Raphael's sound was as loud and unexpected as an explosion in the usual stillness. When I heard the shrill, lost, barely heard whine of pain, I flew to Raphael's side, fearful of what was happening.

When Raphael opened his eyes, and stared blankly at the ceiling, I stared down at him, in disbelief. When his eyes brightened and slid to mine, with his brow furrowing, I dropped to my knees beside him, hope and fear warring in my gut. I tried to keep my voice to a soft whisper, but couldn't help it.

"Raph! You're awake!" The words trailed after me as I fell to my knees, and stared in joyous disbelief at my brother's burgeoning awareness. He squinted at the sepia light, eyes fluttering shut, and then flickering up to me.

Raph's eyes widened with recognition, the turbulent storms of his dark eyes finally quelled into something less than fear. His eyes shimmered with some emotion I could not name, as I dropped to my knees, inches from his face. I watched as his lips twisted in his teeth, grimacing with the effort to understand what all had happened. And then, he looked at me, and curled his mouth into what looked like a smile.

What happened next was both stupid, and gut-wrenching. It was my blind, foolish ecstasy of finally seeing Raphael returning, or maybe my ever incessant need to do something. I had already untangled the blankets that were shackling his limbs. I had only intended to move him from what looked like his uncomfortable sprawl when I lay my hand across the bruised ribs. I was always so careful, and yet that one careless gesture could cause so much unintended wounding. I don't know if I somehow jostled Raphael, or if his injuries were simply aggravated far more because of their severity. All I know was that I had somehow hurt my brother.

It was such a small sliver of sound, only a rasped whimper, as Raphael's face contorted with the helpless agony. I felt the flinch as he tried, instinctively, to writhe away from me. I saw his eyes slam shut, with the bright, searing tear leaking down the swollen cheek. And, most hellish of all, his hand weakly attempting to shove mine away. At that moment, I honestly didn't know which brother was suffering more. I think a dagger through my gut would have been less excruciating.

"God….Raphael, I'm _sorry! _I didn't mean to hurt you!" The truth was so brittle in the words. I never, ever meant to hurt Raphael, and it seems like that was all I was capable of doing. I heard the grinding scrape of breath that almost sounded like a plea. He repeated the sound until I scooted close enough to feel his breath.

"Raph?" I heard him sigh, before his face crumbled. From his slouch on his side, and his face being propped up in the pillow, it was extremely difficult for him to move anything. Gritting his teeth, I heard the sharp grunt, as he rolled his head in negation. His hand was trembling from the effort it took for him to lift it out of the sheets. His hand fell, heavy as a rock, over mine, and I felt his fingers twitching in the effort to tighten the grip.

His dark eyes slid to mine in absolution, searing in their forgiveness, as they flickered to his bruises and back to me. He shook his head once more, his eyes sliding nearly shut, and fluttering in the attempt to stay awake. As gently as I could, I lay the quilt over him, and resumed my crouch by his face. Squinting, he followed my movements, and did not tense when I put my hand on his uninjured shoulder. He sighed again, but didn't pull away.

"I know that you're tired, Raph, and you need the rest to keep fighting. Go ahead and sleep. It's alright."

His eyes were nearly closed, but he managed to give me one more hazy-eyed gaze, with a lip curled into the first real smile.

"It's alright, Raph. I know you're coming back to us." I felt his nod underneath my hand, before his breath deepened, and his eyes slid shut and did not open. I felt his entire frame, a few moments ago, rigid with agony, go slack with sleep.


	11. Wounded:Michaelangelo

April remembered Leo's tearful account of what had happened when he had accidently jostled his injured sibling. Unknown to Donny, or Mike, she had been the one to soothe away Leo's increasingly toxic guilt at the time. It was simply a matter of parroting the reassurances like a gentle battering ram, an art that April had mastered rather recently. When Leo had finally accepted that he was not to blame, she was pleased to see the burden lifted, and his shoulders a bit less bowed. Leo had looked into her eyes, a bright hint of his old strength returning. And to her surprise, Leo impulsively embraced her. She stiffened, but returned the gesture, her arms awkwardly laced over his shell. Ever mindful of how frail she was compared to his brothers, he gently held her to his plastron, and whispered, "April, I know that I've let you all down, and I'm sorry."

She scowled up at him. "Leo, you've not-"

He silenced her with a commanding look. "April, I've been nothing but a sobbing wreck since this whole ordeal started. I know that you and Donny and Mike have had to be strong for Raphael. You shouldn't have to be strong for _me._ That ends now."

It was not quite an edict, but it was oddly reassuring to see Leo lose that wilted, bewildered grief, and replace it with resolve. April wasn't sure what had triggered this sudden change, but it was welcome. She gave Leo a wry smile of understanding.

"It's good to have you back, Leo. "

He gave her a tired smile of his own. "It's good to be back, April. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go take care of Raph."

April had spent the rest of the afternoon in the small town half an hour away at the grocery store, and laundry. As usual, clean bedding for Raphael was the priority. She didn't know what was so reassuring about the homely task, other than it was _something _she could do for them. The turtles, of course, didn't wear much in the way of clothing, nor did they seem to use sheets, or bedding. They knew what a washing machine was, but had no idea how to operate it. She knew that they used pillows in their hammocks, but compared to the layers of sheets and quilts in a normal human bed, their own needs were almost Spartan. She knew how comforting a soft place to lay was, especially when somebody was sick, or in this case, injured. Raphael would probably be embarrassed as hell to find himself swathed in the feminine floral patterns, but that was a small matter compared to his bruises being off the hard floor.

April folded the massive quilt into some semblance of order, and stuffed it into the virtual mountain of clean bedding. The laundry basket was overflowing with the rest of the blankets, and sheets, but she expertly hefted it over her hip. Balancing it against her side, she carefully hauled the thing down the hall to the place now known as Raph's room.

She halted in surprise to see the door closed, and timidly knocked. If Donny was examining Raphael, or Leo was having yet another talk with his comatose brother, she didn't want to intrude. She heard the footsteps, as the door was abruptly flung open. Mikey met her, saw the laundry basket and was already reaching for it.

Mikey gave her a bright smile. "Hey, April, let me get that."

And before she could protest, Mike yanked the heavy basket away, hefted it over his shoulder, and moved out of the door frame to allow her entrance.

"Sorry, Mike. I didn't mean to interrupt-"

The bright smile faltered, as Mike set the laundry basket down a few feet from Raph's pallet. April noticed Mikey's dark scowl, as he stared down at Raphael.

"Oh, don't worry, April, you're not interrupting. I wasn't doing anything but yapping at Raph, anyway. First time I can get a word in edgewise, you know. Raph's finally quiet-"

His words were soft and uncharacteristically bitter, as he finished, "And I never thought I would hate this so much, April."

His burning eyes slid to hers, hard and anguished. April stared at him, and for the first time she could remember, he didn't smile back.

"We _all _hate seeing him like this, Mike." She answered, softly.

"Leo keeps telling me that Raphael is coming back to us. Hell, for Leo, he even opens his eyes. Why the hell can't he just….wake up?"

April looked at him, sadly. "I don't think it's that simple, Mike. Or that Raphael has a choice. Knowing your brother, do you think he's voluntarily lay here of his own free will?"

He shook his head. "No…I guess he wouldn't. But still, April, how long can he just…stay like this?"

"Mikey…."her words trailed off, uncertain and lost. She had no answer for that. None of them did.

She swallowed, hard, as she gestured towards the laundry basket.

"I think he might feel better with some clean bedding. Could you help me move him?"

Mikey looked at Raph's limp form, and gave her a curt nod. April was tough, for a human, but she didn't have the muscles to move Raphael on her own. Mikey watched, as April lowered herself beside Raphael's bedside.

April peered hard at his face, as if searching for something she couldn't name. A flicker of awareness, a groan, anything.

Mikey watched as her pale _human_ hand gently caressed his temple, carefully avoiding the swelling, or the bruises.

April stared down at Raph's slack, still face. The swelling had finally gone down, leaving him looking less fractured and a bit more like himself. She still remembered those tortured moments she had held him in her arms, after he had been flung at her feet. She had met his eyes, as she cradled his head in her lap, broken with that panicked agony, as they flickered down to his twisted sprawl on the floor, circled by the glittering glass.

And when she saw those hooded monsters staring down at her fallen friend, she had at last understood why Raphael would want to kill.

Shaking off the useless memories, she lay her hand over his shoulder and gently squeezed it. His flesh felt reassuringly solid, and warm beneath her palm.

"Hey, Raph. I'm sorry to bother you, big guy, but we need to move you, alright?"

Normally, April's nickname for Raphael would have made him smirk. She studied his face, and ignored Mikey's bitter eyeroll, and curt retort.

"He can't hear us, April. Or else, he would have reacted by now, or _something."_

She turned in surprise at the odd bitterness. "Mikey? You alright?"

He sighed, and shrugged, ignoring the question.

"You wanted my help in moving him, right? Let's move him, then."

The words were biting, as he snatched the quilt from the basket. He flapped it open with a loud pop, and let it fall to the floor. He dropped to his knees, rolling up the old bedding around Raph's back and legs, tucking it as close to his body as he could. Ignoring April, he layered the new bedding over the fold, gathering the edge of the quilt around Raph's shoulders, and shell. Silently, April moved beside him, laying the pillows in a long line that they would use to roll Raphael onto his back, and support the injured side.

Mikey angrily stuffed a pillow under Raph's skull, and April recoiled at the harsh motion.

"Mikey, be careful with him!"

He glared over his shoulder at her. "Do you want my help in moving him, or not, April?" And with that, he gripped the edge of Raphael's shell, folded the injured arm into another pillow, and log-rolled him.

April had no time to hiss out the warning, before Raphael landed on his injured side. Mikey stood there, stupidly, when Raphael's whole body lurched when his flesh hit the floor. Even through the wadded blankets, his injuries were still too fresh to withstand the movement. The small whine of pain made Mikey freeze in horror. April had to restrain herself from bodily harming Mike, as she snarled,

"Damn it, Mikey, you have to be careful with him! Help me get him off his bad side, before you hurt him more!"

Numb with guilt, Mikey instinctively gripped Raphael's shell, and tried to roll him off of his bruises. Raphael suddenly tensed, in shivering instinct. He whimpered in helpless agony, his body flinching away uselessly away from the floor. His face contorted into a sharp line, and his breath quickened.

"Raph…oh, God-" Mikey snatched his hands away, eyes huge and fearful.

"Mikey, help me!" April snapped. She gently rubbed Raphael's shoulder, whispering, "I'm sorry, big guy, I know it hurts. It will be over with soon, Raph." The erratic hitch of his panicked breath slowed a bit, and she felt the pained tension minutely relax.

Trembling, Mikey gripped Raphael's shell, and legs, as April cushioned his head and shoulders. Together, they eased Raphael onto his back. April hastily gathered up the old bedding. Mikey helplessly apologized to his stricken brother in a pathetic, streaming plea. Finally, Raphael was gently cushioned on his back, the pillows piled around the edges of his shell to keep his limbs level. Angrily, April fluffed the thick blanket into the air, and carefully re-draped it over Raphael.

Glaring at Mikey, she snapped, "Stupid question, but if Raphael isn't _here, _why does he react to pain?"

Mikey's eyes were huge, as he looked from Raphael, to her burning green eyes. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to hurt him, April."

The anger softened a bit, as she gestured towards Raphael. "You don't need to apologize to me, Mikey. You need to apologize to _him."_

She stormed out of the room, basket in tow. She tossed over her shoulder, as she exited, "I'll be back up here with some compresses. Maybe that will help with the pain, if Donny can't think of something."

April halted, as the anger in her eyes finally melted. "I know you didn't mean to hurt him, Mike. But, it would probably do Raph some good if you talked to him, okay?"

He nodded, with a helpless glance to his brother. April left the room.

Mikey resumed his troubled crouch by Raphael's head, and stared hard into his face. The evening's shadows had filled the outside, now, and the bright shards of the sun had long vanished. They kept the light in the room low, in case the harsh glare made it hard for Raphael to see.

The sharp line of pain between Raph's eyes had eased, somewhat, but he was still rigid, and breathing rapidly.

Mikey carefully scooted closer, when April returned with the hot water in the large bowl, and the small pile of towels. She also carried the bag of ice, and the Ziplock baggies for the swelling. Silently, she lay them at his feet.

"Do you need any help with this?"

Mikey shook his head.


	12. Raphael: Attempting

_What the hell is with my brothers suddenly feeling the need to touch me so much? I knew that they only meant it to be comforting, that it was supposed to be a way to show how much of a damn they give, all of that. It doesn't mean that I don't hate it, or love them for it, though. It's embarrassing, sure. And, since I'm helpless, it sucks, but it's necessary. Leo does nothing but grip my hand and we either stay in the silence, or he fills the room with useless words, as if he keeps talking, he can bring me back. It's sad, ya know? Leo's never been one to babble. He usually weighs each word, and plans out everything before it ever exits his mouth. Now, he comes in here and tells me everything, from the weather, to what he scorched when he tried to make grilled cheese for the rest. Poor Leo could set water on fire, and can't do much more in the culinary department but open a can or put butter on bread._

_Donny's constantly checking my vitals, hovering over me, like he's scared that he's going to find me dead if he doesn't watch me. If this thing hasn't killed me yet, I don't think it will….._

_He hovers around me like a lost hornet, and I know that he feels helpless. He's always fiddling with my bruised side, staring at my wounds with a shake of his head, or lately, a slow smile. He always pats my shoulder and tells me that I'm healing beautifully. Ha, throw the confetti in the air over the fact that I'm not dead. _

_And Mikey…geeze. Mr. Sunshine isn't so sunny any more. It makes my gut twist to see him coming in here with those tear washed eyes and that wilted mouth like he'll never smile again. My poor baby brother's been torturing himself every time he comes into this room and just sits by my side._

_And then there's April. She's a tough dame. Has to be, to put up with all of us, but she's been a damn good friend through this. Normally, I'd hate being fussed over, and I still hate these girly sheets. But, after spending this much time on my back, I've come to appreciate just how good clean sheets and a soft bed can be. April's been an angel about the clean sheets. And, out of all of my family, she's the only one who doesn't talk to me like I'll break if she talks too loud, or says the wrong thing. _

_My fuzzy thoughts were interrupted by Mikey's clumsy feet, the scrape of a chair, and the dull thud as he plants himself in it, elbows cradling his chin. It's strange and sad how quiet he's become. He does nothing but glare at me. I can feel his eyes burning into my shell like a target. _

_I hear the clack of April's heels after a bit of silence, the door sliding open, and their voices burbling together, in whispers. Mikey hefted something upward with a grunt, and I heard him set it on the floor a few feet away from me._

_April's soft hand fell on my shoulder, and I heard her sorry words, _"Hey, Raph. I'm sorry to bother you, big guy, but we need to move you, alright?"

Oh, goody. April's a tough gal, like I said, but I'm dead weight, and too heavy and fragile for her to lift. Moving me is a pain in the ass, for all, but especially for me. I knew that they weren't trying to hurt me. But, one wrong move, one yanked limb, or a slip was all it took for the pain to come back and keep me hurting until it stopped. I hated that.

Mikey's voice sounded sharp and strange as he and April wadded up the used sheets around my front, and balled the good ones with the pillows under the rim of my shell. The pillow padding my head from the floor was snatched away. I flinched away at the pillow that was suddenly stuffed behind my head. It felt like a battering ram, and smashed directly into my bruised cheek.

I heard Mikey huff in annoyance behind me, as his clumsy fingers angrily stuffed the pillow further _under my skull. It hurt-_

Mikey, damn it, be careful. I ain't healed up enough to just be hoisted up like I'm an old chair you can just move around when you feel like_ it. _

_He shoved me into the roll, and I hope to hell he didn't mean how it felt. Like being thrown away, or tossed through the roof all over again._

Falling! Not again, I-

_I panicked, breath hitching, the flashback washing over my numbed, dumbed senses in one dark wave of fear and memory._

Human hands on my shell, when I was as limp as a wet rag and just as helpless, my skull scraping the concrete, their snickering like breaking glass..

Being hefted skyward, my legs limp and dangling…The dark roar of the empty numb had almost swallowed me, and aside from the screaming edges of awareness that I had to get the hell out of there, I was too stunned to move…

The skylight was made of black glass. The white concrete, and the black glass, under me now. It was huge and black as a graveyard hole, and I blinked stupidly, before shuddering at the sick realization of what theywere going to do….

**The skylight? Come on, man! You've already beaten me, what, ya gotta kill me, too?**

_A thought, a breath, maybe a prayer, as I was dragged up a few more inches_

**I can't fight any more! I'm not a threat, and I never was, if you had just left me alone….**

**I'm already hurt, can't you see that? Just let me go, please, please, just let me go-**

_Probably the most piss-poor choice of words I've ever made._

_Empty air, the slide of maybe a moment, or less, and then, my bruised, busted side collding with that hard floor instead of the swan dive off the skylight. My palm lay, fingers out and twitching at the wooden surface. _

No glass, no shattering, no shards, it's just the floor, Raph, not the roof, get a grip, damn it-

_It felt like a thundercrack, slithering up my bones from the floor, unhealed skin and bruises being slammed again_

If it's just the floor, why this much pain? Roll over, you idiot, get off your busted side before it gets worse…

_. My body tried to fold inward on instinct, but I couldn't curl up, or get off my hurt side. I tried to tilt my shell the other way, to wobble off the floor, but only wound up scraping my elbow against dead wood, and flaring up more pain._

Please, just-

_I hated the weak, trembling way my scream only came out as a whimper._

Please-

_Can't move, can't scream, can't do anything but lay here. My eyes slammed shut, a bit less hard than I had just slammed into the floor. _

_Through the sliver of light I could just make out from the blanket that had fallen over me, I found myself staring, confused at the brightly painted toe nails glaring out from April's sandals. Mikey's voice slithered down to my ears, followed by him clomping over like a scared colt. _

_April's shrill cry took on that sharp tone that women get when they're pissed off, as she tore into Mikey. The words were too blurred for me to make out, but they were shrill and acidic when she was giving Mikey a tirade. I heard nothing but her and Mikey's muttered, shamed sorries, and saw his shadow flicker just out of my line of vision. April's voice dropped low and soft when she lowered herself next to my sprawl on the floor, and it was almost too soft for me to make out. _

"_-hurts, Raph, it will be over soon-"_

_The blanket was hastily yanked away, and the light was suddenly so bright, I slammed my eyes shut again, and just focused on breathing through the hurt. I tensed when I felt a hand curling over my good shoulder._

"_I know it hurts, big guy. I'm sorry."_

_Hell, April, it all hurts. I nearly snarled at her hand draping over my shoulder. I know, she meant it to be nice and kind, and soothing. I _hate_ being touched. Can't stand it. I ain't a damn lapdog to pet. I can put up with Master Splinter's paws on my forehead when I was sick as a kid, or Don, when I'm hurt, and he has to fix it._

_Other than that, touch means a fist to the head, breaking my bones, breaking _me_, especially from a human. It ain't soft, and careful of my bruises, and it sure as heck isn't from a friend. April ran out of the room, and I was left alone with Mikey, whose ass I really, really wished I could kick. They rolled me over onto my shell, and stuffed the pillows around me to keep my arms and legs level with the rest of me. And, thank God, they quit moving me after that._

_I heard April clack off in a huff, and Mikey was left, scared and guilty and quiet. Of all of my brothers, he's always the one who's pet the stray cats, smiled at kids, and did all he could to avoid hurting somebody else. _

_I heard the weird clang of metal as April sat down the bowl of ice at Mike's side, and the pile of heated washcloths, still steaming in the Zip-lock baggies. Mikey muttered something, as she knelt down, and whispered, "Get better, big guy. We miss you."_

_There's not too many good moves I've made in my life, but saving her from getting jumped in the parking lot was one of them._

_When she left, all I heard was Mikey's heavy, gulping breath. I finally opened my eyes a bit, and saw him. He was hunched over the bowl of ice, staring at the rag in his hand like it would explode. His big, klutzy fingers were careful when he lifted my swelled up ankle and lay the bag of frozen peas over the bruise. The dull ache was soon nice and numb. I felt him lay down the towel as he scooped out more ice, and gently heaped the ziplock bags over my knee, under my elbow. When he tucked the ice bag under my shoulder, I nearly bit my lips until they bled to keep from whimpering. Mike had already suffered enough, and he was still in tears. Thank God there weren't any broken bones besides my ribs. Yeah, but a hell of a lot of sprains, strains, and pains. What a lucky bastard I am._

_It's weird, having Mikey not babbling on about something, not laughing, not even giving me that goofy grin that makes me forgive him for whatever he may have done. Now, he stared down at me like he'll never smile again._

_He was careful as he pulled off all the ice, waited until my skin warmed up, and wrapped the heated towels around my joints. The pain went from dull ache to nothing. It was the first time I had been free from it in days, and it felt good. I slumped, and almost drifted off, when Mikey suddenly nudged me, and whispered, uncertainly, "Raph, you've got to come out of this, okay, bro? I mean, I know this isn't something you can just wake up from….or you would have…..right?"_

_No, Mikey. I secretly get up and dance when I know nobody's watching, and I just lay here to play mind tricks with you all. Geeze-_

_I couldn't yell at him, or bap him. And, it was funny when I suddenly realized that I didn't want to. I couldn't take any of it away for him. But damned if I was going to leave him so lost._

_I forced my eyes open, lifted my good hand the few inches I could, and nudged his wrist. He squeaked my name, little more than a whisper, and I swallowed hard. I curled my lips, scraped them together and finally, in that croaking, hard voice, spoke._

"_-tryin-"…._


	13. Raphael: Anguish

"Raph!" Mikey's happy yell was sudden and loud as a fire cracker. At least my little brother had proved to me that you really couldn't wake the dead by noise. I flinched as he leapt high into a backflip, and landed much too near my head for my liking.

"Welcome back, bro!" He crowed, as he smiled down at me. I stared up at him, wide-eyed, and blinking.

His grin was wide enough to split his jaw, as he lumbered over, and was already reaching for me. I couldn't stop the wince and the grunt. I loved my brother, but damned if I could handle any more of his klutzy, stupid fingers hurting me worse.

I was probably staring at him like he was welding knives, but I was nothing more than a shaking, sick ball of shot to hell nerves, barely held together by much more than the grace of God and skin. I shut my eyes, tried to breathe through the tidal wave of thoughts, and feelings. It was just waking up...why the hell was it so damn hard? I saw Mikey's shadow as he stood over my head, and stared down at me. For some reason, it just pissed me off.

"Raph, what is it? Are you okay, bro?" Mikey's voice was soft, as he looked down at me, worriedly.

I rolled my head towards him, helpless. My hand fell like a rock between us, shoved aside the pile of rags,toppling the bowl of warm water on accident. I felt the puddle soaking my wrist, and then the sheets beneath me.

"Hold on, bro, let me take care of this, alright?" Mikey's voice was hard, flat and soft as he hastily hauled the still dry towels away to mop up the mess. When he started to roll the pallet up under my shell, I started quaking. And when he tried to stuff the dry pillow under me to move me, I snarled at my own brother, and swatted his hand away from touching me.

Mikey stiffened and yanked himself backwards as if I could hurt him. I heard nothing but his hitched, seething breath, and felt nothing but my own tremling and his glare, even through my closed eyes.

"S...s...top..."

It should have been snarled out. It should have been roared , wasn't I always getting in trouble because of my big mouth? What the hell was with that garbled crap that made me sound so stupid? My voice should have been so much more than just that weak, sick whimper. I swallowed hard, and tried talking again. Mikey was staring down at me, his eyes rigid, and mouth set in a line, as he quietly folded a rag with shaking fingers.

"Don't worry, Raph. I'm stopping. If you don't want to lay there in that puddle, I'll go get Leo, or Don." Mikey's voice was quiet, and brittle, as he pounded a fist into the puddle and snatched up the dripping towel.

"Mi-ey."

He stopped, and looked up at me, worry and anguish warring in his eyes. "Raph? What do you want?" He sounded as helpless as I did, as he stepped closer to hear me better.

"Are you in pain?" I heard the shrill panic, and hastily rolled my head as best I could. The last thing I wanted was more nursemaids to come in and see me like this.

A frustrated sigh. "Is it okay with you if I at least clean up this mess? I'll get Leo and Donny-"

I grunted and rolled my head hard. Mikey's glare deepened into confusion. "You don't want me to get them? Why?"

I flung my hand over my bent, sprawled body, the wet sheets,and let it flop in dismissal between us. His eyes widened in understanding when his face contorted.

"Raph, give us some credit, please? None of us care about how weak or sick you think you are! We love you, don't you know that?"

My tongue couldn't even fumble out the answer, as I helplessly curled my fist against my cheek, and rolled my head again. I shouldn't still be laying on my ass, my brothers talking to me like I'd break, and changing my sheets and wondering if I was going to live.

"You really think that we're looking down on you for this. That we resent taking care of you when you need us."

The words were flat and hard as Mikey's lip twisted against his teeth. By then, I was so pissed at how he misunderstood me, and not being able to answer back, I just gave up.

I couldn't stop the shrill, frustrated whine, as I jabbed my finger towards my bruised jaw, and let my hand flop back to the blanket. Hell, let Mikey figure out that I couldn't talk without sounding like a drunk, that my jaw hurt too much for a grand discussion,and I felt too much like a jackass to keep up that jumbled crap that used to be words.

"Raph...geeze..."Mikey breathed, as he folded his legs to lower himself until he was nearly level with my eyes.  
He met my eyes with that weird, gentle understanding that always made me wonder why we ever thought of him of only having the depth of a parking lot puddle.

"Raph, I know that it's probably hard and embarrassing to talk like that, but it's alright."

His lips quirked.

" After nearly a week of you being so quiet..." Mikey trailed off, his fingers curling into mine as he swallowed hard for control. "Raph, after nearly a week of watching you lay here, hearing you talk at all is good. Heck, anything you say is better than the quiet. That was hell, you know that?"

His voice took on a knife's edge as his eyes narrowed. "Raph...we nearly lost you. When they threw you through the skylight, we really thought-" He shut his eyes, trembling, fingers tightening over mine.

"We really thought that you were a me..." Mikey pat my shoulder, gently. "I don't care if you start yodeling.I'll even forgive you for taking up country music. Just don't be so quiet any more, okay? You don't sound stupid."

He said that with so much certainty, and I hated it. He wasn't the one who had been dumbed down to grunting and wasn't the big mouth who suddenly sounded like he was forcing boulders out.

It was only a joke that Mikey had attempted to distract me from how broken I was. Hell, didn't they know by now that my thoughts were like a runaway train, and it just wasn't that easy? That it wasn't just the words, or the waiting, or me laying here busted and helpless? It was all of it, and so much more head-crap I couldn't deal with...

I just shut my eyes when I felt the tears.

This is the torture. The beating nearly killed me, but at least there was an ending...This...this... What am I gonna do if this is my future? What do I do if this is all I can do?

My eyes blurred, but thank God I blinked back the waterworks for the moment.

I just scowled, tried to shrug my shoulder out of Mike's hand and winced at the movement. The only thing I could do was turn my head away, but even that felt like rolling a it, I hated all of this! My brothers searching for every movement like starving dogs after scraps, Mikey being so enraptured with a few garbled words, and my scowl...  
And here I was, feeling the sick burn of tears that I couldn't just blink back or hide. I couldn't get a Kleenex, I couldn't make it stop. My breath suddenly felt choking.

Mikey, please, just get the hell away and let me sob my guts out until I get my head on straight. Just walk away and let me piece myself back together, little bro. Ain't you been through enough hell on my account?

I grunted, opened my good hand and shoved his hand away as far as I could with a grunt. I turned away the few inches I could move and cringed when I heard his sharp sigh of hurt.

"Raph?" Mike sounded bewildered and lost and so small.

"Raph, I know I hurt you when I moved you, but it was an accident! I didn't mean to hurt you, don't you know that?"

The sob had errupted into the sharp squeal, as he shot to his feet, in tears. Great, now we were both dealing with waterworks. It would have been a hell of a lot easier if he had just left the room, and let me get my head on straight. It would have been easier to leave him as busted up as I was, but it would have been so damn cruel.

"...'ait...Mi-ey..." It was croaked out, too soft and slurred for him to hear. I couldn't roll myself over in time, so he never saw my pleading, groping hand reaching for his heels, or hear my sob when I saw that agonized bend to his back as he never heard any of it.

That was when I crumbled. The tears welled up, and fell, slid down my cheeks, choked my nose and breath as I just lay there and bawled. I took the edge of the blanket and mopped up the worst of it, but I mainly lay on my back, glaring at the ceiling. If this was my life now, it would have been merciful to have breathed my last in that pool of shards, with my brothers around me. They had been crying, but we had been together. For once in my damned life, they had been together, and more worried than pissed at me. And now, all I seemed to do was hurt them, no matter what the hell I did. Hell, I couldn't even talk, and I was still doing damage to them. And then, the guilt recoiled in my gut.

What sort of sick bastard was I to be happy to see them in that much pain? What sort of brother was I to make the baby of the family think I hated him, or Leo feel this guilt or Donny feel this helpless?

What the hell was wrong with me? Why was I always the one who did the damage and the hurting, no matter how damn hard I tried...

That was what pissed me off the most, that I tried, and tried, but couldn't make any of this right, or fix it, or do anything but make it worse.


	14. Disjointed

My baby brother fled from me, and the room as if I could get up, and do bodily harm. He bolted like a scared rabbit, like I was so disgusting for being so dependent, that he couldn't stand it...or me.

It had to be me. Wasn't it always me? That thought, like the rest of my darker moods, latched on, and came to rest like an old familiar friend in my head. Either he hated me, or I was so gross in my helpless hurt for him to give a damn. I was never one to waste a lot of mental space on the bright side of anything.

"Mi'ey!" It was a strangled grunt. Nothing loud enough to be heard, even easier to be ignored.

I let my outstretched arm fall and splash into the puddle, and waited, hope rising fast and falling faster. The cold was starting to make my skull ache, but I didn't have movement enough to do much more than lift my head for a few minutes. Even that was too much, and my head flopped back into the freezing, soaked mess.

I took a deep breath, stared for answers I knew would not come to the ceiling that really couldn't help. And then, I shut my eyes, and sobbed like a beaten, scared little kid.

It was all too much. Couldn't stand any more of it.

I should have known that my little boo-hoo fest was going to be interrupted at its most embarrassing point. I just lay there, sprawled in the water from the bowl I had tipped over, shivering in the aftermath of sobs, cold sheets, and hard, hard floor. I was crying because I had just hurt my baby brother, and I was sobbing because I couldn't do anything else.

When I heard the footsteps coming down the hall, I sucked down the blubbering. I felt around for the dryest edge of sheet I could find, and wiped away as much snot and tears as I could before letting my head flop back onto the pillow. I shut my eyes, trying and once again failing to shut out the world. Maybe if I just pretended to be out of it, whoever it was would just leave me the hell alone. Maybe I was truly a bastard.

"Raph?"

Oh, no. Not April. Couldn't a turtle retain some sort of dignity? Guess not, because I heard her heels clack across the floor, after staring in confusion at the ruined bedding.

April sounded worried as I heard her gasp at the wet mess around me. She dropped to her knees, put a hand to my temple, a palm to my face and throat to check for breath and pulse. I couldn't stop recoiling from her touch, or the flicker of annoyance that contorted my forehead into one pissed line.

She sucked in a sharp breath, and I felt her hands slide away.

"Raph? Are you alright?" Her voice grew more sharp, and shrill, as she stared, not knowing what to do.

"Raph!" She blurted my name, voice scared and quaking and I winced when I heard the little sob.

I hadn't heard that level of fear since I took the swandive. And now...

Oh, damn, she was crying! Why the hell was she crying?

I felt her hands helplessly fist the blankets, as she just sat there on her knees, next to my curled sprawl. April kept sobbing, those quiet, sniffing little heaves that ravaged her mouth and made her go pale and shaky.

"Raph." She said my name like it was it was torn from her guts, and I hated it. I couldn't stand it. First, I made my baby brother bawl, and now, her? What sort of bastard was I, anyway? I grit my teeth, inwardly cringed. It was humiliating, you know that?

I opened my eyes again, squinted at the glare of the overhead light she had turned on. April was only a foot away and had her head bowed, red hair glinting and spilling down over her shoulders. I turned towards her, as much as my busted back and legs and arms would allow, anyway. There was still the dull ache, but nothing, nothing like that stabbing, blinding hurt that I come to know and hate.

She had one hand clenched over her forehead, the other clapped over her lips to try and hold back the louder sobbing. I nudged her knee with my good hand, and waited. She went rigid at the touch, and slid her teary eyes from my arms, to my face.

I blinked up at her, waiting.

"Raph?" It was a joyful, timid whisper, despite the stupid question. I just let that one go.

I nodded, as her mouth went from a tense and worried line to a wide, welcoming smile.

I knew she would have flung herself into my arms and hugged the hell out of me,if I could stand it. Instead, April just settled for clutching my hand between hers. Her grin was nearly face splitting as she breathed a long sigh of desperate relief, and just squeezed my hand.

"I knew that you'd pull through this, Raph. And thank God you did. How are you feeling?"

I just gave her a smirk, and a careful flex of my fingers between hers. April just shook her head, and burst into tears.

Oh, goody, more waterworks.

"Let me go get your brothers, okay? They can help me get you cleaned up."

She rose, wiping her face with a mussed tissue, but stopped when I squeezed her hand, and shook my head.

"-ait."

Her eyes shot open, as she knelt back beside me.

"Raph, you can talk?"

I sighed, and rolled my eyes at the question. This was hardly considered speaking.

I worked my hand out of her two, and raised it, palm up.

"-ait."  
I swallowed hard, hefted the breath, and forced my garbled voice and aching jaw to mouth out the words. They were still mangled as hell, and you had to pay attention to get the gist of what I was trying to say. But April sat rooted and transfixed, as if I were some sage dispensing the wisdom of the ages or something. That thought made me snort.

" Get Mi'ey. -ust him."

She gave me a puzzled frown, clearly uncertain about what the the heck I was saying. "Mikey? You don't want me to get the rest of your brothers?"

A sigh, and a troubled, loaded glance to the door. "Raph, are you sure?"

I glared up at her. "I want Mi'ey. -ust...just fo' now."

Her jaw actually dropped at my old dearly familiar flare of anger. And I was nearly gleeful at how very clear my words were coming across.  
I couldn't explain the reasons...how I made Mikey bawl, how I needed to fix it..the words just wouldn't come, regardless of my mouth's skill in speaking them. What I was supposed to say to Mikey, I had yet to think of, but for now...

I grunted, and spat, " 'Just Mi'ey."

April flinched at the sharp tone, and I cringed.

And then as an afterthought, I lay my hand on hers, and whispered, "P'ease?"

No point in being an impolite bastard on top of everything else I screwed up. Heh, who ever knew that the hothead could be so damn chivalrous? April carefully lowered my hand to the sheets.

"I'll get him for you, Raph. Will you be alright by yourself for a few minutes?"

I nodded with a sigh.

Her lips quirked into another grin, as she rubbed my shoulder. "I'll get Mikey...and some clean sheets. Raph, do you want me here when we move you?"

Her eyes flickered to the door,and back to mine, tense and afraid. She knew how clumsy Mikey was. So did I, but...

I rolled my head. " 'Just Mi'ey, p'ease. Fo' now."

She was nearly sick with relief, as she finally forced her fingers to let go of Raphael. Normally, April assumed that Raphael's waking would be a joyful, delirious feeling, of freedom from all the anguish of long, fruitless vigil, indifferent prayers, cherishing any reaction, any flicker of movement.

So, when Raphael had not only opened his eyes, but spoke-however slurred and broken his words were, she felt nothing at all. Nothing but a dull, weary relief, laced with overwhelming fear that Raph would slip back into oblivion, and lay so stilled and splayed at her feet once more..

She must have lingered too long in the room, because Raphael showed a flash of his trade-mark, irritable nature with a scowl and a wave at her to leave.

"Mi'ey 'ere?"

She gave him a thin, tolerant smile as she rose. "I'll get him, big guy."

She relished the smirk in answer, and the condesending wave, only because it was so very missed, and so very much Raphael.

April shivered at the memories of seeing himf fall and forced them away as she resolutely forced herself to rise, and find Mikey. She made a mental note to go find Donny and Leo, of course. But, for now, for whatever reason, Raphael had asked for Mike, and April was happy to comply.

To her surprise, she found Mikey, face and arms deep in the linen closet, a laundry basket at his feet, as he erratically flung towels and bedding and sheets into a heap.

"Mikey!" He flinched at the sudden noise, and April heard him blurt the curse word after the dull thud of his head against the side of the door. Wincing and rubbing his temple, he yanked his head out of the closet, and stared at her, wide-eyed and shaking.

"What?" He squawked, heaving.

"Raphael's awake, Mikey!" April expected Mikey's usual cheer to break forth like sunlight, to hear that bright laughter, that joy. Anything besides that anguished twist to his mouth as he bowed his head.

"Yeah, April, I know." It was a hard, flat whisper, as he deliberately took a sheet, and folded it with far more care and attention that it required. When he saw the stricken shock on her face, he attempted the wilting smile and false cheer.

"Uh, thanks for telling me! It's good to know! I'll...go tell Leo and Don."

His retreat was interrupted by April yanking the sheet from his hands and blocking his path, with arms folded, clearly expecting an answer.

"Mikey." She spoke his name with heavy intention, as he stiffened as if expecting to be flogged. He turned to her, weary and resigned and waiting to be chewed out, corrected and dismissed.

"Mikey, Raph's awake! I thought that-"

"I know that!" He snarled, arms instinctively curling to his sides, as he saw April's eyes widen in shock for a moment, and then narrow with sudden understanding.

"Was Raph awake when you were fixing his stuff, Mikey?"

He only gave her a curt nod in answer, as his eyes hardened, and his arms clamped against his sides,as if to ward off attack. Her breath hitched as she stared at him, searching for anything that would explain Mikey's unnerving glare. His eyes were fixed at the wall, and he looked as if he wanted to rip it out of existance.

"Mikey, what happened?" Her voice was taunt as a fraying rope, as he just sighed again, jaw clamping shut. He lurched away from the hand on his shoulder as if her hand was unclean, and just gave her a seething glance.

April faltered into scared, wounded silence, completely at a loss to reconcile Mikey's characteristic compassion and love for his family with this rigid, cringing thing who stood inches and worlds away.

"Mikey? What's wrong?" Her question was pleading as he shut those burning eyes, and just shook his head.

"Mikey, he asked for you."

April watched in disbelief as anguish flickered across his face in the glance he gave Raphael's door. And then she actually stepped away when that anguished hardened into something ugly. She heard his barking, brittle chuckle, as he rose and gently brushed past her.

His words were tossed over his shoulder, as an afterthought, "I heard him talk already, April. But since he's feeling so chatty with you, maybe you can tell him I have nothing to say. I'll get Donny." 


	15. Michaelangelo:Fragmenting slowly

He knew that it was useless to flee, but impossible to stay, regardless of how cruel it was to leave his wounded brother in that sepia room, alone. He knew that April would come after him, probably to hurl an accusation, or just stare at him with those stricken eyes, the silent demand or plea to come back, and pretend that everything was just hunky-dory.

Mikey snarled at the thought as he continued the rigid, erratic path out of the farmhouse, past the steps, past the open field where Leo was doing his katas, and towards the machine shed. Donny had taken a liking to the delapidated building almost immediately, and set up an impromptu workshop, where he whittled down the hours. Mikey knew perfectly well that Donny's useless tinkering was a refuge and a distraction from the hell of a damaged brother, the uncertainty of Splinter's loss,  
and seeing the rest of them fall apart.

Donny clung to the damp, dark place like it was home. The same way that Leo had claimed that empty field and spent hours in useless practice, or April spent so much time staring at the walls and washing the sheets and fussing over Raphael.

It was the only things that kept them all sane. How else were they to deal with how damaged Raphael was? Mikey shut his eyes, cupped the ache in his forehead, forced his jaw to unclench. The thoughts were as useless as they were tortured.  
Raphael wasn't so damaged that he couldn't make it clear that he hated him. Didn't trust him, or why else did he flinch and cry whenever Mikey came near him?

Mikey halted at the edge of the darkness, squinting at the wan glow of the halogen lamp that Donny had somehow restored to functioning.  
Donny was hunched over the van's open hood, a screw driver in one hand. Mikey took a moment to take a deep breath, force his clenched lips to twist into the bright grin that was expected at such a happy event.

"Hey, Don! Great news, Raphael's awake!"

Don, startled by the bright explosion of Mikey's joyful announcement, emerged from the hood of the van, wide-eyed.

"Come on, Bro! Raph's awake! Don't you need to look him over or something?"

Donny hastily slammed the hood, and gave Mikey a grateful look as he tossed him the rag to wipe away the grease.

"Thanks for getting me, Mike. This...Thank God that he's finally coming around..." Donny said, soft and awed as he started trotting towards the house. He halted and looked back over his shoulder when Mikey stayed rooted to the ground.

"Mike? Are you coming?" Don's gentle inquiry, as always, was serenely composed, but genuinely puzzled.

Mikey gave him a grin so wide, his cheeks ached. "Right behind ya, bro! I just thought I'd go get Leo. He'd want to be there, too."

Don gave him a quick nod of understanding, and was gone.

Mikey sighed inwardly, now feeling trapped and stupid at facing Leo. It was not too unusual for Donny to miss the obvious in his brothers-he spent so much time in his own head that they all knew and accepted it was difficult for Donny to stay with them at all times.

For once, Mikey was grateful that Don was already gone. He was gentle and perceptive enough to know what the hell to do.

And then, he grimaced as he turned towards the open field. Oh, yeah. He had to get Leo.

True to form, Leo was slicing the air with feline grace, as he twirled the katanas into arcs of light.

Mikey felt his gaze like a hammer blow as Leo halted, and sheaved his katanas even before Mikey had emerged from the shadows of the trees.

Leo tilted his head, and squinted with concern, even as Mikey inwardly cobbled together the false smile and the bright cheer as they were bricks in a fortress to keep him safe.

"Mikey, what's wrong?" Only Leo could ever make such a question sound both worried, and an irrevokable order for answers.

"Nothing!" The slathered on cheer dripped away like melted butter as Mikey saw the sharp line contort between Leo's eyes. Hastily,  
he plunged on, hoping to distract him.

"Leo, Raph's awake! Don's with him, I came out here to get you so-"

Leo stared at his babbling, and narrowed his eyes. "Is Raphael alright, Mikey?"

Mikey shrugged. "Um, he seems to be. I really don't-"

Leo took a measured breath. "Because if Raphael's awake, and alright, I don't understand why you're in tears and running away from him."

The words of negation slammed like a brick against Mikey's shock as he just stared at Leo in dismay.

"How did you know that-" The word fumbled and died on his lips when he saw Leo's bitter, sad smirk.

"I'm your big brother, Mikey. That's how I know. What happened?"

The tears spilled over before he could blink them back. And yet, as much as Mikey wished he could wail like an animal or collapse to be fixed, he could do neither. He clamped his hands against his sides, and met Leo's kind gaze with a bright, frigid stare.

He stepped away from the gently extended embrace, and just shook his head, curtly, ignoring Leo's wounded surprise.

"Mikey?" The question was soft and hurt as Mike flinched away as if afraid of being hit.

"Leo, if you want to play big brother, I'm not the brother who needs it right now."

"Like hell you don't."

Mikey sighed at Leo's frustrated glare.

"Leo, not now, okay? If you want to baby somebody, go take care of Raph, and leave me alone!"

Mikey kept his glare to the wall. Leo lingered a few moments longer, torn between forcing the issue, and helping Raphael.

With a shake of his head, he turned towards the farmhouse, and spat over his shoulder.

"We are *not* done discussing this, Michaelangelo."

A snort as Mikey sneered, "Spare me the lecture, Leo. Go be a big brother to the other baby in the family."

Leo recoiled, mouth working into a tight line as he only stared at Mike, in disgust.

And then, he was gone.

_- 


	16. Raphael:Awakening, Part One

I should have known there was something wrong when April came back, with her tight-lipped smile looking like it had been nailed on. Her eyes kept sliding away from my waiting glare as she set the laundry basket down with a thud and started folding the damn things. She was igoring me, which pissed me off. I put up with that for about five seconds before I growled out from my sprawl.

"A'pil. Where i' Mi'ey?" I winced at the snarled garble.

"He's getting your brothers." It was spoken too fast, and she stiffened, as if my question had somehow slapped her. I watched uneasily, as she lay the sheet down with far too much attention before she lowered herself so I could see her easier. Nice of her. Meeting my eyes, she sighed, long and loud and sad. Gently, she took my good hand between hers, and just held it.

"Raphael." She spoke my name, so strange and sad and heavy. "We all love you, big guy. And it's good to see you coming back to us. Don't...don't ever,ever do something like this again, okay?" Her spew was muddled up by her choking back the crying.  
I could only blink and stare up at her, numb and stunned and touched at the same time.

I was about to start the waterworks myself. Thank God I didn't but I had to blink back the blur. It was awkward, and it hurt, but I unwound my good arm from the wadded up sheets, grabbed her wrist and squeezed. I swallowed hard, and hoped my eyes would say what my mouth couldn't.

" 'm ...so'ry."

I'm sorry, damn it. I didn't mean to put any of ya through this. I didn't have a choice. Couldn't be helped. Can't be helped now.

I saw the white line deepen between her eyes, as she jerked up sharp. "Did you say that you were...sorry?"

She nearly spat the words, and swallowed by her anger with an effort. I heard the sigh as she leveled those burning eyes to mine. "For what, Raph?" Her voice was soft, and puzzled, until I swept my hand over sprawled body.

"For dis." For all of it. For being the dumbass who thought I could solo the Foot and win. For bein' me. Take your pick.

"Oh, Raph..." Her face was white and twisted as crumbled paper, as she flung her arms out like she wanted to snatch me and then let them fall to her sides. Maybe she remembered my hissy fit when Mike moved me wrong, or maybe she saw my wince. Didn't matter.  
She was in tears by then, just shaking her head and softly crying.I just stared and let her bawl.

I had no idea what the hell to do when a woman cried, and somehow, that made it worse. I reached out with my good hand,  
and awkwardly pawed at her wrist. My fingers were getting easier to move, at least. She sniffled hard, smiling soft at my hand over hers.

"I'm sorry for crying, Raph. I know it's embarrassing to you. But you have no idea how scared we've been for the past four days,  
big guy."

Hearing those words was somehow worse than watching her cry. I squinted up at her, and swallowed hard. "Fou' days?"

Uneasily, she nodded, and tilted her head. "Maybe it would be easier if Donny explained what all's happened, Raph."

I glared at that. What the hell was there to get? I was used as a punching bag, thrown off a roof and whacked in the head so hard that I was out for nearly a week. Not real hard to understand.

Four days...damn. Four days of me not running my mouth, or arguing or whining...must have been like heaven for my brothers.  
April squeezed my hand between hers, and then she glided one hand over the good side of my face. Her eyes were glossy,  
and shining as she smiled at me again.

"Take it easy, Raph. I hear your brothers now."

I heard the voices down the hall, Don's soft, whispery smarts and Leo's louder, sharper orders. April gave me one last pat before she got up as the door opened.

I couldn't see much-just her knees, and heels as I heard Leo. "April, how is he?"

"Leo, why don't you ask him yourself? Let me know if you need anything." I felt her hand over mine, as she whispered, "Keep getting better, big guy. I'll see you soon."

And she winked, leaving me happy that my green skin hid the red tint to my cheeks.

It almost took more than a Don's gentle palm across Leo's plastron to stop Leo from just charging into the room. At Leo's small sound of questioning protest, Don gave him a tolerant, patient smile.

"If you don't mind, Leo, I'd like to look him over first, just to see how healed his injuries are, and what can be done to help him stay as pain free as possible. If he can talk, so much the better."

Leo held his hands up in surrender. "Of course, Don. Right as always. Can I stay, though?"

Leo tried and failed to keep the pleading whine from his voice, though Don knew he would leave if asked. "Actually, Leo, it would be better if you stayed, in case I need help in moving him. Just don't try and lift him or anything, okay?"

"Hey, guys. Get in here. I think there's somebody who wants to talk to you." April radiated all of their relief as she looked down at Raph, and beamed.

"Come on! He's awake!" She gestured them closer. Leo held back a step or two behind Don, as April scooted back to give him room.  
Don gave April a silent nod of thanks, and knelt besides Raph, who was still sprawled and curled in the pallet.

"Raph?" At the sound of his name, Raphael squinted, and using his good elbow, managed to halfway roll himself off of his side.

His lips quirked into the smirk as he grunted out in a voice that was harsh and slurred, but unmistakably his.

" Donny."

Don stared at his brother for a full second and a half before he burst into tears. Raphael sighed with rare patience, as he grunted,  
hefted his hand, and lay it over Donny's.

"...m al'ight, Don. I'm 'ere." 


	17. Raphael:The Wounded

Oh, hell, more waterworks. Don managed to hold himself together a whopping thirty seconds or so before the Niagra Falls.  
He stared down at me, eyes huge and smeared with tears in shock. I squinted up at him through the same blur of tears that I blinked away before anybody could see them. I hid the wince of pain as I rolled onto my good side. I couldn't stop the sudden grunt when the pain went from dull and bearable ache to agony.

If my damn jaw worked right, I would have cussed, but I was happy that I didn't whimper this time. Something flickered across Don's face, as he narrowed his eyes, and wiped away the tears. Thoughtfully, he looked at my clenched, curled body,and scowled. He kept his voice soft, as he stared down at me, troubled, mouth working into a worried line.

"I'm glad that you're awake, Raph, but you need to keep still, okay?"

The hell with that. My words were thick and slurred, but the snarl came through bueatifully.

"I'm al'light, Don!"

Both his hands and his sigh were gentle, tolerent, and irritating, as he carefully eased an arm under my shell. It was damn embarrassing when he set me back in the sheets, almost timidly. It was as if he were handling something that could break, and it pissed me off.

"Raph, you need to keep still." He kept his voice calm, peaceful, but with the hard edge that told me I was pissing him off.

I shook my head, grunted, and started to roll back onto my elbow.

"Raphael, stay still." Don's voice was chilled and hard. I heard the hissed, angered sigh under his breath when I glared at him.

"I'm AL-LIGHT, Don!" My words were still mangled and slurred, but I still had the lung power to bellow. The words went off between me and Don like a stick of dynamite. I rolled, winced, shoved my good arm underneath me, ignored the agony. I propped myself up a few shaky inches, as my arm quivered, and I hoisted myself up.

"Don, I'm al-"

"Raphael." Don spat my name so suddenly, as he grit his teeth.

"You don't get it, Raph. You're not alright."

He shut his eyes, and shook his head when he saw my face twist, and my breath hitch and my shuddering.

From behind, I heard Leo's quiet, fearful question.

"Don, what do you mean, he's not alright? He's awake, he's talking-"

Silence. Only that sick, scary silence as Don uneasily swallowed.

"It's not that simple." He said softly, and shut his eyes, before so carefully picking his words.

"Listen to me, very carefully, Raph. You were nearly beaten to death. You had multiple blows to the head, not to mention the fact that you were thrown through a skylight. The only thing that saved you was that your shell took the brunt of the impact."

Glancing at Leo, he sighed in frustration. "Here's the thing, Raph. If we were human, we'd have things like x-rays, or CT scans to see what sort of internal damage you have. We'd have things like a trauma unit, or at least some damn pain meds to make some of this easier for you. But we don't. I'm sorry."

Don looked wounded as he gently continued. "And therein lies the problem, Raph. You have broken ribs, and massive bruising on the side that you landed on. That's why it's so painful for you to move. You probably have some massive sprains on your elbow and wrist, too. As far as I can tell, you didn't break any limbs, which is a miracle. But that's not worries me."

His eyes grew storm dark as he very, very gently touched my shoulder.

"Those are the injuries that I can see. You took a lot of hits to the head, Raph. I have no way of knowing what sort of long-term damage this may have done to your cognitive and motor skills."

Tears. They burned, and choked as I heard the weird, strangled sob that clogged back the shriek from my throat.

No. Hell no. God, no, please-

I flinched at Leo's strong, steadying grip as he gathered me up, as if he could protect me from this-

"Donny." It was low, growled, a warning, as Don met his eyes and glanced at my teared, scrunched face.

I watched as Don slathered up the bright, lying smile that never reached his eyes.

"But, that's the worst case scenario, Raph. And the fact that you're awake and communicating is a very, very good sign that you'll recover well."

"See, Raph?" Leo gave me that awful, insulting pat as if I were some scared little kid that could be quieted by lies.  
"Donny's always been a worrier, you know that."

I snarled, swatted, shrugged his hands off of me. To hell with laying here like some busted toy, getting my sheets changed, having my brothers bawling over me and throwing me this damn pity party.

To hell with any more of this. I shoved my good palm beneath me, tilted my shell, pulled up my good knee underneath me, and started to rise. On shaking limbs, shaking faith, and nothing else holding me up by my own stuborn will.

"Damn it, Raph, STOP! Didn't you hear me?" Don's voice was sharp as shards, brittle and fragmented and panicked. I felt one of his hands at the rim of my shell, the other along my bruised side. I tensed at the touch, and shuddered when I felt Don's palm against my busted ribs.

"Raphael, you need to lay back down." It was muttered under his breath, as his eyes slid to mine in warning.

I stared up at him, numb and shocked at the hurt of the threat from my own brother. He nudged his hand deeper into my side.  
It was just a hint, a bit of pressure, a palm over his brother's busted side. It was the cruelest thing any of them had ever done to me.

PAIN!

Splintering, crashing, aching pain that fractured up my side and made me squeal and curl up, nearly crying.

I would have toppled the few inches to the floor if Don hadn't caught me. Breath hitching, instincts screaming, rage at his skin touching mine after hurting me that damn bad, I did the only thing I could do. I punched him.

It was a weak, flaccid hit, but it connected with a damn good smack to his shoulder, as he recoiled in surprise. I heard his yelp,  
fractured with shock, and cut off by Leo's bristling hiss.

"Get out." The words were broken from his clenched teeth. And, before either one of us could stop him, Leo snatched me from Don's slack grip, and very carefully slid me to the floor.

"Get out, Don. I won't ask you again."


	18. The Broken

"Get out."

Leo's barely controlled rage threatened to fracture what little semblance of calm he had maintained so far. Were it not for the fact that he was cradling his frail and injured brother in his arms, Don and he would have come to blows.

Leo felt Raphael tense at the words, and then start trembling in his arms. Quickly glancing downward in worry, Leo looked him over to see if Don had somehow inflicted even more damage. Raphael was as taunt and coiled as a fist from either the pain itself, or unwittingly enduring more from a careless hand. His eyes were clenched shut, and his breathing was erratic.

"Get out, Don. I won't ask you again."

Leo's words were only a snarled whisper. Don flinched, as his eyes went huge with horror. Gaping, he looked from Leo, to Raphael and then stared down at his hands as if he had never seen them before. Leo watched his jaw snap shut, as he shook his head, as if to clear it.

The look he gave Raphael was one of tortured remorse, before he drew a shaking breath in tears. Raising his palms wide in surrender,he rose.

"Raph, I didn't mean to hurt you."

Leo felt Raphael shudder at the words, but he didn't open his eyes, or even acknowledge them.

"Raph, I'm sorry."

Don's voice was only a thin sliver of a plea before he lowered his hands. Raphael inhaled sharply and twisted away with a grunt.

Don closed his eyes in anguished acceptance, before rising and fleeing the room.

April looked down at Raphael, worriedly.

"You're going to get better, big guy. Keep coming back to us, alright?"

Raphael didn't open his eyes, but he raised his good hand, let it fall on her wrist, and curled his fingers over hers. April gave him a a wan little smirk. Leo watched her, tense and rigid when she touched Raphael's shoulder.

April paused, troubled now. "Leo, when things calm down, maybe Don should look Raph over."

Leo flinched, and only glared at her hand on Raph's shoulder. She sighed.

"Leo, Raph is getting better. He's coming around."

Leo's eyes hardened as he shook his head, bitterly. "You heard what Don said, April."

"And I also know how tough Raph is, Leo." She sighed, and met his eyes. "He's alive and awake. That counts, too."

Leo just shook his head, and shut his eyes. "Leo, he's coming around."

Leo's face crumbled into agony. "Is he?" The words were broken.

"..YEAH! "

Both of them lurched in shock at the sudden, grunted word at their knees. Raphael gave them both a forbidding scowl, as he flung his good arm out to Leo, the demand unmistakable.

" Lemme up."

Leo sighed,and shut his eyes for a long moment. "Raph, you heard what Don said."

Raphael twisted against him, trying to free himself from the increasingly caging grip over his torso. His good hand clawed at Leo's restraining arms, tried to shove them away.

"Raph, stop. Please-" It was a helpless, desperate plea, as Leo attempted the impossible task of restraining Raphael, while not hurting him further.

"Lemme up." The garbled snarl was emphasized by Raphael tensing against Leo's arms. Grimacing, Raphael jerked upward, only to have Leo's anchoring arm latch itself across his plastron. April suddenly dropped beside him, worriedly.

"Why don't you take it easy, big guy? You're still recovering."

April cringed inwardly at when Raphael craned his neck to look at her. The betrayal and the hurt were clear as he swallowed hard and glared up at her.

"A'pil? You...too?"

Her green eyes narrowed at that. "Yes, Raphael, me, too! You just woke up! You can't walk, you can barely move, let alone speak!  
Why the hell is it so damn difficult for you to understand that you can't just leap out of bed and expect everything to be okay?"

Leo tensed when he felt Raphael shudder, enraged by both the helplessness, and the shame. Warily, Leo slid his grip to cage Raphael a bit easier, just in case his brother decided to do something stupid.

Raphael just sat, propped up by Leo's arms around him, and plastron against his shell, bearing it as if under torture. And then,Raphael errupted.

" LEMME UP!"

Raphael spat the demand, screamed it, hurled it at their feet. His grunt turned into a groan, and he rocked back and flung himself forward. All Leo would remember afterwards was emptiness and fear as he stared, bewildered at his wide, and empty arms, followed by Raphael's colliding with the floor.

! April screamed, that same shriek of terrified helplessness of when Raph had been hurled through the skyline, and she thought she was seeing his corpse.

"RAPH!"

Raphael had only two feet to fall. Two feet to twist out of Leo's grip, two feet to slam his battered side to the floor, and two feet to sprawl and tremble. In any other circumstances, if he had tripped, or fallen or stumbled in drunk and did this to himself, it would have been damn hilarious.

Raphael did not move, did not do anything but quake as Leo cursed under his breath. He turned sharply to April.

"Go get Don." The order was harsh, barked out as she scrambled to her feet and nearly flew down the stairs.

"Raphael? Raph?" Leo hovered helplessly, torn between not knowing if moving Raph would somehow cause further damage, or if leaving him on the floor was worse.

How in the hell could he know?

" ..L..Leo" A thin whisper, choked out and slurred as Raphael 's groping, good hand pawed at the floor. As if he were bearing a huge weight, he slowly turned his head towards his big brother. Tears. Raphael was in tears, as his eyes slid to his sprawled body,his useless side, his bruised, mottled skin.

"Raph, just stay there, alright? I'm not moving you until Don looks you over. Don't'-"

Leo shut his eyes and put a palm to his forehead, dredging up enough restraint to keep from snarling. "Don't ever do this again,  
Raph. We nearly lost you already. Doesn't that mean anything to you?"

Raphael stared up at him, wounded, as Leo just shook his head, condemning and too scraped raw to give comfort.  
Raphael clenched his good hand against his jaw, as the tears trickled then. "Leo...'m sorry."  
It would have been so much easier to bear the guilt afterward if Raphael had snarled, cussed...anything but this.

That fierce, blistering rage that had carried him through, and flared forth, and made him so very much Raphael to them never came.  
Raphael didn't growl, snap back, retaliate...nothing. Nothing but that ravaged, helpless pain as Raphael went limp and yielding as a corpse.

Something crumbled within, then. Something strong and fierce fractured as Raphael surrendered to Leo's protective arms.

"Thank you, Raph." Leo whispered, softly.

Gently, but firmly, he slid his arms from Raphael's torso to his shell, and carefully slid Raphael back to his hated supine position in the bedding. Raphael lay there, still as a rock, eyes clenched shut but fist slack in the sheets.


	19. Realignment

Author s Note: My apologies for the delay in updating Vigil. I have finally finished the most brutal semester of grad school that I have had, and my time, unfortunately, had to be devoted to other pursuits. I hope this compensates for some of my absence. Also, I am trying a bit of a different writing style. Please let me know if it's awful. Thank you.

Mikey didn t know how long he had been staring without seeing at the vacant field, still warring between his own tortured guilt and disgust with himself. He stared at his hands, opened them wide, and narrowed his eyes at his thick, clumsy fingers. He could wield his nunchucks until they seemed woven of air and light. He could flip fast enough that he was practically airborne, and grace the ledge of a building with only an inch of foothold and not fall. So how in the hell was it possible for him to hurt Raphael so damn much?

Mikey felt the rising sob somewhere deep in his gut. At one time, not too long ago, Raphael would have shaken off the beating like water. At one point, Raphael had been as unmmovable as a mountain that Mikey used to stand on. And now...

Raphael could only slither a few inches on the floor. His bone-crunching grip was now just a flaccid twitch, limp as a dish rag. And Mikey, God help him, had left his once unbreakable brother in tears. And from what? Not a fist fight, or a stabbing, or anything appropriately vicious and so much more fitting.

Hell, no. Just Mikey s dumbass attempt to move his brother. Mikey stared at his hands again, recalling with renewed anguish how Raph recoiled under his palms, and flinched away as if burned. That sudden, keening whimper, when Raph's storm-dark eyes spilled over in tears, as he tried and failed to get Mikey's hand away from his bruised ribs.

And then, the sickening finality as Raphael s trembling fingers worked their way out of the sheets, and shoved him away.

Stop. The word had been garbled from jaws too bruised and a mouth too damaged to speak well. But the meaning shined through when Raphael grunted, and inched away as far as he had stared up at him as if he had a dagger aimed at his throat.

Strange how those inches suddenly seemed to separate Mikey from his brother as far as heaven was from earth.

And Mikey had put the final nail on the coffin when he ran. Mikey swallowed. He had left Raph, sprawled and helpless in both the tangled sheets and even more tangled issues.

Mikey trembled when the realization of what he had just done struck him like a fist to the mouth.

He had left Raphael. He had left his brother curled up and crying. What the hell was wrong with him?

Mike felt the guilt bare its teeth, and maul any refuge of denial he was foolish enough to cling to.

The image of Raphael, helpless and weak and so damn scared lingered like a ghost as Mikey shoved a palm to his forehead.

Mi-ey. Raph s voice was once as loud and sudden as breaking thunder. Nothing like that slither of whispered slur.

"S...s...top..."

"Raph, I know I hurt you when I moved you, but it was an accident! I didn't mean to hurt you, don't you know that?"

Mikey remembered glaring down at his stricken brother, and made no attempt to stop the hurt trickle of tears that suddenly flared.

And Mike remembered the cannonball suddenly plunging in his stomache when Raphael's eyes flickered over his tears, and came to

rest in absolute sorrow. Helplessly, Raph stared up at his youngest sibling, in anguished silence.

"...'ait...Mi-ey..."

Mikey couldn t stomach the pleading, or Raph s clutching hands, or seeing Raphael on the floor like a worm, begging.

It was weak, it was sick, it was wrong, and it sure as hell wasn t Raph. Everything felt so busted and fractured.

Now, Mikey found himself at the edge of the field, cowering in the grass, while his brother lay broken and helpless in the room.

What the hell was wrong with him? It was strange how his feet felt encased in concrete when he raised one to take a step back towards the house. It was even stranger how quickly the concrete shattered when he went from hesitant steps to a full-blown run.

He ghosted over the battered porch, saw the sliver of Donny's shadow. At the sound of Mikey's thundering footsteps, Don quickly arranged his mouth into the forced forced his voice to be soft, calm, and placcid, completely free of the rasp from sobbing, with the vague hope that Mike would simply fly by as he usually did. No such luck.

Mikey halted abruptly, scowled when he saw the dull gleam and red in Don's eyes. Casting an indecisive glance to the house, he twisted back around and came to land inches from Don's crouch.

Don only stared up at his brother, rigid and trapped. After being ordered out of Raph's room by Leo, he was close to crumbling.

"Mikey? Is everything okay?"

Hesitating only a second or so, Mikey only lay a warm hand on Don's shoulder, with a sigh of understanding.

"It's Raph, isn't it?" Mikey wasn't blunt, accusing, nothing. Just standing there, kind and concerned and worried. Don's eyes slid to his with a small sigh of his own.

"How did you know?"

Mikey shrugged with a sad smirk. "What else would it be?"

Don exhaled, and gave him a curt nod. "I take it that Raph is the reason you're here, too, then?"

Mikey's smirk wilted as he hitched his shoulders. "It's not so much Raph, as it's me. Don-"

Mikey's hand coiled deep into his flesh, as his voice hardened in brittle anguish. "I hurt Raph."

Something flickered in Donny's eyes, as he looked at Mikey, worriedly. "How?" Don took great care to make sure he kept his tone soft and sympathetic, as Mikey hitched his shoulders again.

Mikey swallowed hard, and heaved out the heavy words. "I tried to roll him over, so April could get him some clean sheets, and I must have pulled something, because Raph just tensed up-I didn't mean to! And then-" Mikey shuddered.

"Raph started crying."

Donny scrubbed a hand over his suddenly blurred eyes. "Mikey..." It was gently snarled as he shook his head, and brought Mikey's face to his own.

"Listen to me on this, okay? You would never deliberately hurt Raphael,and he knows that. He-"

"Don, he was in tears." Mikey's strangled words halted any false comfort that Don could have given him.

"Mike, do you blame him?" Don said softly. "Raphael was nearly beaten to death. It's going to take him time to heal, and I'm not only talking about the physical injuries, either. "

Don rose, and finally gave his baby brother the first real smile in days. "But, he's also gotten this far, he recognizes us, and he's Raph. If anybody can pull through this, it would be him."


	20. Raphael: Slowly

I kept my jaws, eyes and fists clenched shut, but I couldn't do a damn thing about the tears slithering down my cheek. I could feel the sheets coiled underneath me, the hard floor, the scrape of my knuckles, and the unheard scream of my injuries. My busted side was all icy ache instead of the explosion of agony. I didn't know what was worse, now...punching my own brother, or being brought down by him jabbing a finger at my side. How damn frail had I become? I swallowed back that thought when I felt the burn of new tears swelling over my eyelids. Vaguely, I heard Leo's cooing, as he kept me caged in his arms. A week ago, I could have broken bones for being pinned like this. And, now, all it took was Don poking my broken ribs, and Leo's palms over my plastron to bring me down, and keep me there. Leo was still glaring down at me, shaking his head, condemning. Leo shifted his grip under my shell, crossed his legs underneath my head, and then lowered me into his lap. Pillowing the back of my head, he sucked in a sharp breath and finally bit out the words.

"Why do you have to make everything so damn hard, Raph?" I felt his fingers curl in frustration, as he shook his head, and shut his eyes. His question hurt more than my sprawl to the floor. My only answer was silence. I had no answer but more tears.

Another long, frustrated sigh, one that I had heard so many times before, during, and after a lecture. Fearless was so good at it, he could make his sighs say more than words ever could. Leo ground a shaking palm to his shut eyes before he opened them. I flinched when I saw that scraped raw agony, as he choked back another sigh.

"Raph-" It was a soft snarl. "You have no idea what it would do to Mike and Don if we lost you. What it would do to me."

The last word was torn by the crying he couldn't hold back any more. My big brother buried his face in his hands, and crumbled. "What the hell were you thinking, being on a rooftop in broad daylight and fighting that many alone, Raph? Do you want to die? Is that it?"

Leo felt my flinch even as I yanked myself up the few inches I could. My elbows were already trembling and close to collapse as I heaved it out.

"NO!" My anger, thank God, came roaring back, and trickled through my arms like a long awaited river. Better than these damn, pathetic waterworks.

Leo only stared down at me, head tilted, eyes narrowed and glittering with doubt. I felt my gut twist as he only shook his head in dismissal.

"Then why did you do it, Raph?"

Silence. Only that heavy, waiting silence for my answer. The hell with it.

"Diddn'd wan 'em afder you."

I heard that bewildered little choke from the back of this throat, as he stiffened.

"You took that beating because going below would have meant leading them back to us."  
Leo's words were heavy and measured as the realization made him shudder.

I gave him that smug, sad smirk. Normally, I would have gloated to rattle Fearless that much, until I saw the guilt twist Leo's face like paper, all contorted and pale. And, when his eyes spilled over, I just let him bawl. After four days of me making him wander if I was was going to live...

That thought sliced through my brain like a machete. Leo, Mikey, Don, all huddled around me, as I lay there, sprawled and oblivious, not knowing if I was going to die.

And for once the silence was for loss of words, and not just because I couldn't talk good. Leo's waterworks were not much more than tightly controlled sniffling, and his hands scrubbing the tears from his face. No hysterics, or wailing. Just that shattered, hitching weeping, as I hefted myself up on my good elbow, and squinted at him.

"Leo." He jerked when I said his name, and stared at me, as I held my good arm out, and waved my fingers towards my good side.

" 'elp me."

He stared down at me, biting his lip, as his gentle hands clutched my arm. Uncertainly, he slid his arm under my shell, and finally nodded.

"I'll help you sit up, Raph. But only if we do this slowly, and you stop the very second something starts hurting. Is that clear?"

I scowled at that, as he narrowed his eyes. "I mean it, Raph. And don't forget that there's still four of us who will happily tie you down if that's needed to keep you safe."

I gave him a curt nod, as he eased himself down til he was nearly sitting behind me. And when he started hauling me the few careful inches upward, I nearly yelped at the sudden, sharp pain. I heard his panicked breath as he halted, already manuvering me back to those hated sheets.

"Leo, what are you doing?" Normally, Don's quiet, and I could count on one hand the number of times he actually raised his voice above its usual soft tone. I heard footsteps as his voice rose, high and shrill with horror, "Mikey, get in here and help me. April, please go get some ice and cold packs!"

I heard more footsteps, Mikey's skittering bounce and Don's deliberate, slow lurch, as they both came into view. Normally, Don was so serene and detached from anger. Shaking his head in disbelief, and glaring at both of us, he waved a furious hand and palmed his forehead with a huff.

"I suppose there's little point in repeating how very stupid and dangerous it is for Raph to be moving around. And I suppose now the threat of paralysis or worse means nothing either."

"Don, you said yourself that we had no way of knowing that without x-rays, or medical help. " Leo's voice was calm, but I could tell from the chilled undertone, he was getting furious.

"Medical attention would be a futile waste of time if Raphael won't stop endangering himself. Especially if his big brother enables him."

I felt Leo's quiver, as he slowly, carefully slid his arms up, deliberately rose and halted, only a few inches from Don.

"You were the one who deliberately injured Raphael, Don. Don't you dare try to make me look like the villian here."

"Because it was the only way that I had to show Raphael how injured he truly is! Think, damn it, the both of you!"

He dropped to one knee, and gave me the full, brutal weight of his stare. He glanced at Leo, but his words were for me. Even enraged, he managed to keep his rancor soft.

"Raphael." My name was as heavy as a brick, as he slid a few inches closer.

"All it took to make you collapse was a jab to your side, Raph. That's *it.*" He spat as he slid his eyes to Leo. "You're right. It was cruel of me to hurt Raphael, and I am sorry for it. But, it does nothing to change the danger in this situation. If it only takes one poke to his battered side to hurt that much, what exactly happens if he gets up and starts moving around before he's healed?"

He shut his eyes, and shook his head, bitterly, before looking back to me. "Raph, I know you hate this. I know. And I can't even begin to imagine how frustrating it is for you to be bed-ridden for what may be a very long time."

I didn't fight his gentle hand over my shoulder that time, as he continued, softly. "The problem is that none of us have any way of knowing what will make this worse, or better, Raph. I can tell you that you don't have broken bones, at least in your limbs. You have some broken ribs on the side you landed on, and your shell was cracked from where you hit the floor. I don't know if your mobility is limited like this just because it hurts you so much to move around, or if there's some spinal issues involved. Do you have any numbness in your limbs, or loss of sensation, anywhere?"

I shook my head to both, and he finally relaxed a bit, and even smiled. "We need to look at the good in this situation as well. Raphael's awake. He's communicating with us, he knows us, and he seems to have most of his cognition intact. He's suffered severe trauma, but most of that seems to be confined to bruising and bones, not actual nerve damage. He didn't break his back, or his shell. And if this thing were going to kill him, it would have by now."

Another gentle sigh as he looked at me again. "Raph, I know that you want to get up, and fight. I know that laying here has got to be killing you inside, and I'm so sorry that it's like this."

He glanced at Leo and Mikey. "But for now, it is what it is, and we can't do much about it, yet. Raphael, I'm asking you, as my brother, to promise me something."

Don didn't bother to keep out the pleaing as his eyes filled. "Please stop fighting us on this. I love you, Raph. I love you enought to tie you down and keep you confined, even if you hate me for it. It's worth it if it means that you've got a chance to regain your life. Will you at least agree to bed rest until the bruises and swelling go down?"

I grit my teeth, and scowled, but forced myself to nod.

My shoulders hitched, as I forced my aching jaw to keep working. The words were still slurred, but they were becoming clearer. " 


	21. Raphael: Inches

The thing I remember most was that long, horrible quiet, where Don and Leo exchanged glances. That meant that they had obviously discussed this thing before, probably several times when I was too conked out to pay attention.

Needless to say, I didn't appreciate that one damn bit. If they had something bad to tell me, tossing it off to each other only put it off.

"Fo' how lon'?"

The words were clogging my throat, as if I was trying to cough up a boulder. Talking was getting a bit easier, but it was still so damn frustrating to slur like I was drunk, or an idiot. My brain had literally been kicked around like a soccer ball from the beating, and my jaw had taken most of the impact that my shoulder didn't. From the bit I did remember, my shoulder, leg and shell had slammed into the floor and took the brunt of the fall. My head had flopped back to the tile, and I still remembered that dull, numb floating sensation before the agony that seemed to take root from the floor and claw its way into my very bones. I never knew somebody could hurt that damn much and live.

I knew from the throbbing ache and a couple of brave dabs of my fingers to my cheek that the left side of my face was a swollen, banged-up mess. My jaw hadn't been dislocated, but the tendons that held it to my face had been brutally stretched. Opening and closing my mouth wide enough to talk intelligently just hurt like hell. As you've probably figured out by now, I ain't the world's best at not expressing an oppinion. I ran my tongue over the inside of my cheeks. The flesh there had been gnawed away when I had clenched my jaws shut to keep from screaming. I was damn lucky I hadn't chewed a big hole in the side of my face.

"Don...how lon' am I gonna be li' dis?"

The question dangled like a noose, and I felt my throat close in dread of the answer.  
From behind, Leo slid his hands from holding me down, to gently gripping my shoulders, as if he were steadying me for the hit. I twitched on instinct, but forced myself to lay still when his fingers tightened in warning.

Don sighed, uneasily, before he softly answered, "I'm sorry, Raph. I don't know. It may be a bit longer than we like."

He must have seen the dismay and the anger flicker over my face, because he very quickly forced an overdone smile, and almost cooed, "But, you're getting better, Raph! You're already awake and talking...let's look at the good, okay?"

So that was it, then? I was just expected to happily submit to laying on my ass, my brothers changing my sheets, always being watched and treated like a damn criminal for trying to sit up?

My anger had been smouldering in my gut, slowly burning its way up my veins. Here I was, being held down by one brother, and having the other one tell me that it just might be like this forever. Less than a week ago, I would have kicked Leo's ass for trying to pin me to the floor. Now, all I could do was grunt, and twitch the few inches Leo let me.

Forever. A few days or a lifetime of this hell. Nobody really knew. The tears pricked from behind my eyes, as the hysteria writhed against my clamped jaws.

How in the hell was I supposed to just accept this? Who in the hell were my brotheres to expect me to?

I shut my eyes, and choked back the sob. After a few shaking breaths, I managed to work my face into the usual pissed off sneer.

Here I was again, fragmenting. Leo still had me cradled, and caged, his arms laced over my plastron, the back of my head pillowed by his lap. Donny was wringing his hands, and hovering uselessly, obviously torn between shoving me back down completely, and fearing that he'd hurt me more. April looked both really pissed, and worried. Her hand was warm, and she kept rubbing my good shoulder, like she was trying to soothe a frightened animal. My damaged side was still twisted in my sprawl on the floor, and it went from dull throb to stabbing ache during the time of this oh so happy chat with my brothers. I winced, as I slowly uncurled my good elbow, only intending to shift a few inches at a time. Leo snarled, and dug into my shoulders like a hawk's talons spearing a rat. I grit my teeth, sucked in air, and tried to yank my shoulder away.

"Raph, stay still!"

"Le' go a' me." It was meant as a snarl, but came out as a whine., as I huffed and tried to squirm away.

"Stay still!"

"S'op hol'in me!Id 'hurts!"

Leo scowled down at me, fingers lessening their grip. I heard his aggravated sigh blown out between clenched jaws.

" 'What' hurts, Raph? You need to be more specific with what is going on." Don said softly. Very gently, he gripped Leo's wrist, and nudged him.

"I know you're trying to help, Leo, but unless you plan on restraining Raph indefinitely, holding him down just seems to piss him off."

"But it keeps him safe!"

"It just makes him angry."

"So, what now, Don? We just let him kill himself? We almost lost him once. If keeping him alive means holding him down until he quits fighting with us, so be it."

I heard Don's gently appeasing sigh, as he attempted and failed to halt the oncoming firestorm.

"Leo..." He breathed it out, and just shook his head. "Raph, if you don't mind, I would like to examine you, and see what exactly is wrong, okay? Now that you're awake and you can speak, it should be a bit easier."

My lip curled, but I nodded as best I could. Don gave me a forced smile, and a troubled glance to Leo.

"Leo, I can't look him over when you're latched onto him like that. You need to move."

Leo glared, and muttered something I couldn't decipher. As gently as if he were handling a holy relic, he slid himself from underneath my head, and carefully lowered my skull back into the familiar warmth of the pillow.

"I'm not trying to be an asshole, Raph. I'm trying to protect you. You know that, right?" Leo made no attempt to hide the shattered plea. I tilted my head and squinted up at him. I winced when I really saw him. He just looked wan, and pale, from too many sleepless, fretting nights, spent worrying about me.

"How can you pro'tec me from dis?"

He recoiled as if I had hit him, the hurt twisting his face.

"How, Leo?" My first intact question, and my big brother reacted as if I had taken his own katana and shoved it through his gut.

I watched as Leo trembled and crumbled, before he shook his head, helplessly. "I can't."

More waterworks as his eyes flooded and he hitched his shoulders. "I can't, Raph. I'm sorry."

Over the years, I had seen Leo shot, stabbed, beaten, bleeding, bruised, with broken bones. The one thing that I had never seen him do was cry, at least not over me.  
And now, he was fighting tears, sniffing back snot and looking like he was only holding himself together by clutching his plastron and quaking.

I sighed, and poked his wrist with my good hand. "Stop dat." I said softly, as I put my hand over his and squeezed it. "Dis ain't yo fault, Leo."

My attempts to comfort one of my brothers always felt awkward, forced, and humilitating. Normally, it would have been nothing more than me gettin' one of them a beer, or a slap upside the head. Somehow, I didn't think Leo would take me slapping him very kindly, and I obviously couldn't just casually stroll to the kitchen and grab a bottle.

But after seeing Leo, I would have gladly let him punch me,if it meant he'd lose that wounded, lost look on his face.

I heard April's apologetic sigh, as she rose. "I think I'll go and fix lunch." She flashed me an awkward smile, as she gently tapped my shoulder. "How about it, big guy? Up to eating?"

Glancing at Don, she asked, "He can eat, right?"

"If he stays awake, food would be good for him. But make it something soft, and easily chewed. I don't think that swallowing should be a problem for him, but with that bruise on his jaw, eating may be difficult."

April nodded, and smiled down at me. "So...you like tuna?"

I scowled and shook my head. Tuna reminded me too much of cat food, and I hated the idea of ground up fish from a can.

She shrugged. "Okay, no tuna then. I'll go see what I can find, but keep in mind that this ain't the Ritz, please."

"Ha, ha, ha." My sarcastic cackle was little more than a busted snort, but seeing April's relieved, bright grin made it worth it.

She graced me with a quick squeeze, and hand sweeping over my face.

"Thank God you're back, Raph. You have no idea how much I've missed you, big guy."

"Ain't 'ere yed, A'pil."

"You will be." She whispered, as she pecked my temple. Don didn't bother to hide the amused snort, and Leo tactfully looked away when April chuckled and left the room.

Author's Note- I wasn't very happy with this chapter, because it adds very little to the plotline, but after almost two months of not writing, I really had no excuse not to post something. I am working on the next chapter, which will hopefully start the beginning of the end for this story. Hopefully, the next chapter compensates.

uncertain. 


	22. Michelangelo: Fraying Part I

Rather anti-climatic, Raphael is mentioned only in passing, and Leo and Mikey sort of have it out. I will have the next half of the chapter posted in a few days. My apologies for being so late. I'm doing an internship in grad school, and it eats most of my life right now.

During the exchange between April and the rest of his brothers, Michelangelo stood, mercifully unnoticed in the doorway, watching helplessly as Raphael tried and failed to sit upright. He recoiled at the loud noise of shell hitting wooden floor. He had to clap a hand over his mouth to keep from shouting when he saw Raphael flop bonelessly to the floor, and sprawl like a gutted fish. Don and Leo kept talking to him in those insultingly soft tones, as if Raph were frightened pet to be soothed to sleep. He could see Raphael instinctively tense in helpless rage, and the agitated quake of the fingers on his good hand as Leo held him down.

Raphael had always hated being held down and trapped far more than any physical torture. And, now, Mikey watched in numb disbelief as Raphael docilely accepted the restrains. Leo muttered something protective and soothing as he gently shifted his grip on Raph. Mikey didn't bother trying to listen. Everything was so damaged and wrong that it wouldn't make any difference now. April kept hovering like a protective bird, but abruptly rose after gracing Raph's temple with a quick peck on the cheek and a chuckle.

Mikey scowled as Raphael only rolled his head into the crude nod, and gently cupped his good hand over hers. April's eyes were watery as she hastily exited, probably trying to spare them and her embarrassment of more tears.

He hastily stepped back until he was cloaked by the shadows of the unlit end of the long hallway. April turned and headed downstairs. Mikey frowned, troubled when he saw her smile crumble and her tired palm rake a handful of red from her drawn forehead. She clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle the crying and bolted down the stairs to prevent them from hearing her. Mikey stood, indecisively torn between going to make amends with Raph, or following April. Grimacing, he looked into the room again. Seeing his three brothers at once, like this, felt like facing a firing squad. He couldn't do this….not yet.

Silently, he walked into the kitchen, and watched, dubiously as April sniffled and flung various food items erratically on the counter.

"April?"

She yelped in surprise. The jar of fruit slid from her hand and shattered on the floor. Both flinched at the breaking glass, the mess, as April's tear smeared eyes slid from the floor to Mikey. Mikey swallowed, glanced down, and gave her a forced smile.

"I got this." He said, quietly, as he reached for the dust pan and the ragged broom to sweep up the dripping shards.

"Be careful. Don't cut yourself, okay?" April whispered, as she sidestepped the mess to give him room.

Mikey scooped up what was left of the mess, and gave her a smirk.

"I'll be careful. The last thing we need is another injured turtle around here."

Mikey's gut clenched as soon as the horrible words exited his big, stupid mouth. April met his eyes, her lips a thin, white line.

Sighing gently, she said softly, "Mikey, I know this is hard on you, too." Mikey's tremble was barely noticeable, but his eyes went huge.

"On me?" He spat, bitterly, as he flung a hand in the air, angered by the sudden surge of guilt.

"April, Raph is the one who's laying there like some busted toy. He's the one who can't move, can't talk, can't do anything but mess up his sheets and cry! How in the hell is this hard on me?"

"Lower your voice so Raph doesn't hear you!" April snapped, as she gave the ceiling a sharp glance. Glaring at Mikey, she shook her head, at a complete loss.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" The demand sounded like a plea as she hitched her shoulders, helpless to understand, helpless to reach over the gulf of seething anguish.

Mikey only stared at her, torn between agonized uncertainty, and a sudden, bewildered sense of loss.

"I don't know." He breathed out, shaking his head. April turned curtly, as she fairly clawed the can of tomato soup open. She slammed the bowl she plucked out of the cabinet to the counter, dumped bread to be warmed and cut into smaller pieces.

"Raphael asked for you." Each word felt like a dagger to Mikey, as April hacked into the bread. Knife raised, pausing once, she parceled out her words. "More than once, actually."

Mikey crumbled minutely, as he lowered his head, ashamed. "April, I-" The words clogged in his throat as she jerked sharply, waiting for some absolution that would never be enough.

Drowning, Mikey thought dully. We're all drowning from this.

It was as if an invisible flood has somehow burbled up and swept away every trace of the world he once had, a world where Raphael was undamaged, and he never, ever had to face any of them almost getting killed. No wonder Mikey couldn't speak.

"You're what, Mikey?" April said, waiting for those long, tortured, wordless moments. Mikey clawed helplessly through the jumble of overwhelming thoughts, but could not assign a label to the agony.

"Sorry." He muttered, hoarsely, before he ventured further, "I'm sorry."

April's narrowed eyes widened a bit as Mikey apologetically gestured. "I know that I've been a jerk about this..about Raph, about everything. I just…I just don't know how to handle Raph being helpless. I've never had a brother injured like this, and I don't know how the hell we're going to ever get back to how we were."

April carefully set the knife on the counter. Sidestepping the counter, she crossed the kitchen until they were close enough to touch. "You need to tell that to Raph. He needs you, Mikey."

Something flickered in Mikey's eyes as he finally nodded, shutting his eyes. "Yeah. You're right. And I will."

April narrowed her eyes, and crossed her arms. "When?"

"As soon as Leo and Don are done up there. There's some things that I need to tell Raphael alone."

He gave her a weak, watery smile, but, thank God, it was real, and it had returned. April gave him a forgiving nod, fingers gently brushing his shoulder as she smiled back at last.

"Good. You can bring him lunch while you're at it."

Raphael's lunch turned out to be an odd conglomerate of mashed potatoes, chocolate pudding, and a chopped up sandwich with cheese wiz. Hardly gourmet, definitely not substantial, but it was all they had for the moment. Mikey just hoped that Don would be able to know how much or how little Raphael should eat. And, Raph, as crippled as he was, was still more than capable of making his preferences known. This was something that Mikey understood all too bitterly.

Lingering at the door, he finally dredged up the guts to knock softly. There was the sounds of cloth shuffling, somebody rising, and the door opened.

Leo emerged and looked on in surprise for a moment. Mikey awkwardly shrugged. "I brought Raph his lunch. Do you mind if I bring it in?"

Leo frowned in concern. "Mikey, are you alright?"

A quiet sigh, and a minute shake of his head, as Mikey's false cheer fractured. "No, Leo. I'm not. But, I'll be better if I can talk to Raph about stuff, okay?"

Leo turned to look over his shoulder, apparently making sure that Don and Raph were alright for the moment. Stepping out, and closing the door behind him, Leo faced his little brother with a raised eyeridge and a final folding of his arms.

"Mikey, I know that this is not easy for any of us. And I appreciate you bringing him lunch." Leo's eyes hardened as he leaned back.

"But, if you can't go in there without running away..if you can't help Raphael face this, then you need to spare him more anguish and leave him be for now."

The tray rattled in Mikey's grip, and he stared numbly at his empty hands. Leo had abruptly snatched the food away and carefully sat it on the extra chair outside the door.

"What the _ do you mean, telling me that, Leo? That I can't see my own brother? What the hell gives you the right to dictate who-"

Leo snarled, clapped a hand over Mikey's mouth, and kept it clamped against his jaws. Mikey's words dribbled off into a small protesting noise.

And to Mikey's shock, Leo nearly hefted him off his feet, and dragged him down the hall, far away from Raph's room. Almost slamming Mikey shell first into the wall, he braced his little brother with palms firmly against his plastron.

"You gave me that right when you ran away, Mikey. You left Raphael sobbing in the room. Do you have any idea how much you hurt him when you deserted him like that? Do you?"

Leo's voice had taken on a shrill, high edge, as he curled fingers into Mikey's flesh. Heaving, he watched as Mikey only managed to shake his head, trembling.

"Raphael is too fragile, and too weak to take any more of that, Mikey. And he sure as hell doesn't need to be wondering if his own brother is going to abandon him or not. Now-"

Mikey flinched at the abrupt halt in the speech, as Leo took a shaking breath, and tried to control his warring emotions.

"Can you go in there and be there with him, or not?" Leo stared down at him, clearly demanding an answer, as Mikey swallowed hard.

"Yeah." Mikey answered in a shaky whisper. "Yeah…I can do this. And I'm sorry, Leo. I messed up big, I know. Let me try to make it right."

Leo finally drew back, eyes glittering with suspicion. "I truly hope that you can." He finally released Mikey, after a long, lingering stare. "Don's staying in there, just in case Raphael needs help."

Edict issued, Leo held out the tray, as Mikey took it from his hands. And he turned away without saying any more.


	23. Raphael: The Long Road Home

Raphael:

Between Don's fussing over every little bruise and ache, and April's constant attempts to comfort me, and Leo's incessent need to baby me, I was getting damn sick of all the attention. It shouldn't have been such a production for me to sit up, move, or even talk without somebody wanting to kiss my damn boo-boos and make it better. Normally, I would have shoved off the hands, yelled some smart ass remark, storm out and roam around the city until my head cleared and my temper cooled enough for me to not take it out on my family. Now, I was confined to a pallet and I could only lurch up a few inches before my quaking elbow gave out.  
Before this, I could pop off some acidic sneer at somebody, pummel the mental confusion out with my punching bag, go rough up a punk or two. And now? Hell, just because you couldn't see the bars didn't mean that I wasn't caged. I was as just as much shackled to these damn sheets as I would have been if I were bound in two foot chains. Chains would have been better, because at least they can be unlocked. But this...this was hell. Not being able to move was hard enough, but the worst was the pain in the ass dependency. As perverse as it was, I was grateful that I was out of it for most of the time. I knew that I couldn't handle having Leo or Mikey or even April wiping me down like an infant. I know, I know. It was stupid to get so pissy over something so small, compared to what I'd already been through. Pain, I knew well. I could handle being hurt. I didn't know how to handle being trapped in my own body.

I swallowed back the snarl, and masked my scowl with a performance that would have done Leo proud. I endured Don's irritating exam with a curled lip and a grunt in protest but nothing more.I thought it was pretty stupid, since nothing had changed in the last two hours. I had bashed myself against the floor, but aside from bruises, and aches, I hadn't done too much damage. He kept his touch gentle as he carefully lifted my arm, made me flex my hands, probed my ribs and stopped when I winced. I started to point out the very obvious fact that I had survived a nearly two story fall, and a beating to boot. Trust me-falling two inches wasn't nearly as painful.

Right as I was about to launch into a wonderful tirade, courtesy of the hothead, the words...I flushed in humiliation as the words came out in a gabled, messed up slur. Don tilted his head at me, squinting at my lips as if he could decipher my speaking by watching my bruised mouth. I could barely hold back the shaking, sick tears of helpless anger.

I heard Don's gentle sigh behind me, as he stooped to look me in the eyes, with a sad, understanding smile. "Raph, I understand what you're trying to say. I know that it's hard and embarrassing, but the more you talk, the easier it will get. Now, it looks to me that your jaw took quite a hit, and it hurts for you to move it too much, right?  
I think it will get better after it heals a bit more. It will just take time, okay?"

Smiling softly, he tilted his head. "It looks like you're recovering wonderfully, Raph. I know that you're sore, and in pain. But, considering what you've already survived, the damage is remarkably mimimal."

He looked more grave as he eyed my mouth, worriedly. "I know that you're frustrated about how you sound when you speak, Raphael. But, the only way that will improve is if you keep talking. Trust me...you don't sound that bad."

I narrowed my eyes at him, but allowed the good side of my mouth to curl into a smirk. "Y...yeah."

He gave me a quiet pat on my good shoulder, and looked up at the sound of clattering dishes and a quick tap on the door.

Don raised an eyebrow, and turned to me. "Do you feel up to eating?"

Inwardly, I winced. Even though I hadn't eaten in days, I still felt woozy and sick at the thought. I wasn't too eager to stretch my already wrenched jaw muscles, or try to shovel food down my violated throat. Now, even something as simple as eating was complicated now.

Don wilted when I scowled and shrugged my good shoulder. "How about you at least sit up then? Is that alright?"

Hell, yeah, it was alright. Any change from me laying sprawled on my sides or stomach sounded like heaven. When I shifted my body weight to my good elbow and started to haul myself up, Don glared and lay a palm over my shoulder.

"Not so fast, Raph. Let me get behind for support, in case you fall back, okay?"

Carefully, Don eased himself behind me, ignored my dirty look, my annoyed eyerolls, and scowled back. "Alright, now. Raph, I need you to pull yourself up as much as you can without hurting yourself. The moment you feel any pain at all, stop."

Don scooted back a few inches to give me more room, as I stretched out my elbow again. Rolling to my side, I curled my good leg closer to the floor,  
and shifted my weight to my hip and good arm. Shoving my palm to the floor, I wobbled dangerously, as Don's hovering hands braced my shell.

"Go slow, Raph." Don warned.

I nodded, curtly, but hoisted myself up, inch by slowly tortured inch. My bruises screamed in protest, and my battered side flared with the fiery ache,  
as I forced my leg out straight. Don propped me up from behind, and steadied me. As an added precaution, he made a mountain of the pillows and sheets behind my shell.

It was both excruciatingly slow, and it hurt far more than I thought it would. But, at long, long last, I hauled myself upright. For the first time in a nearly a week,  
after nearly being beaten to death, I was sitting up.

At that moment, I heard the door open. I could only stare at Mikey, as he stood, trembling and holding a tray full of soft and mushy stuff. His eyes brightened when he saw me sitting up. The smile on his face melted with guilt as he shifted the tray, almost as if using it as a shield.

"Hey." He swallowed, awkardly, and shrugged.

He kept staring down at me like he was staring at the edge of a cliff and in danger of being shoved off.

"Mi'ey?" All I could do was blink stupidly, and try to twist around to see him. Don gave me a warning glare, and I stilled.

"Hey, Raph...Donnie. Uh, April let me bring this up." He gestured towards the tray, before swallowing hard, the tears rising.

"Raph, I'm sorry for being such an ass. Do you think you can forgive me?"

My baby brother stood, rigid and scared at my reaction, as I eyed him from my pillow mound.

Don sensed the tension between us, gave Mikey a gentle glance of understanding and took the tray.

"Raph?" Mikey didn't bother to keep out the plea, as he started to cry.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to leave you like that. I just...I don't know! You're my big brother, and so tough! And when this happened, I-"

"Mi'ey." I stopped him with one garbled word, as he stiffened, waiting, head bowed, and broken. I didn't have any pretty speeches prepared for absolution.  
Didn't need any.

Mikey winced, clearly expecting an explosion, my rage, something besides my forgiveness.

"Shuddup." Damn it, damn it, damn it! When would I finally learn to keep my mouth shut?

Mikey took the brunt of the remark like it were a whiplash. He started crumbling.

"Raph..." Mikey trailed off in a bewildered, anguished whisper. Helplessly, he looked to Don.

"Raphael, I know that this isn't easy on you, but Mikey is suffering, too." Don said in that acrid voice, laced with disgust and fatigue.

"And I know we've all made mistakes in handling this, but we're doing the best we can. You wouldn't be alive if we weren't."  
Don whispered, bitterly.

I felt guilt twist in my gut, as I inwardly winced. Even when I couldn't talk or move, I was still an ass to my brothers.

"Raph? I know that I hurt you, but-" I silenced Mikey's annoying stammering with another glare. As much as I hated being confined, the one thing I hated more was my brothers all fumbling around for their stupid attempts to make any of this better by ignoring it. I wasn't stupid, and I wasn't used to being handled so delicately. It made me feel weak, and I hated that so much more than anything else.

And for some reason, my baby brother's cringing reminded me of that. I twitched my shoulders in an irritated shrug, and Donny mercifully loosened his grip.

Meeting Mikey's eyes, and seeing his tears was hell all over again. The last time he had been near me, he had left my room in tears. Now, here he was, bawling again. I could barely blink back my own waterworks.

"I...'m so'ry," It was slithered out between my clamped jaws, but thank God, it was enough. Thank God my brothers were far more forgiving than I ever deserved.

Mikey's smile was trembling as much as his hands. "You're forgiven, bro. I never held you being a smart ass against you before. Why start now?"

Ahh, sweet, sweet forgiveness, in true Mr. Sunshine style.

I pat the floor with my good hand beside me, and worked my sore jaw into a smirk.

"Sid down, Mi'ey. Mikey obediently slid gracefully to the floor, with a grin of his own.


	24. Raphael: Footsteps to Walking

Why in the hell was it such an ordeal for Don just to arrange the stupid pillows and crap into something strong enough to prop me up? I was trying to keep my temper in check, I really was. Don was grousing behind me, something about not finding a "foundation." Irritably, I grunted for his attention, and pointed at the wall a few feet behind. I heard Don cluck worriedly behind his teeth, as he mentally calculated distance, inches, time, and probably some complex ratio of my pain verse the advantage of me sitting up.

Stooping to meet my eyes, he looked at me, warily "Raph, are you up to being moved? Is that alright?"

I snorted, and nodded. "Be...good ta sid up."

Don allowed himself a quiet grin, and a nod. "Alright, then. We'll try it.." His eyes narrowed, as he gazed over my bruises. "But only if you give me your absolute word that you will tell me immediately if it starts hurting. Got it?"

I sighed, rolling my eyes skyward.

"Raph, your word." Don's voice turned hard, as he whispered, "You're better, Raph. Not healed. There's a crucial difference between the two, and you can really screw up that line if you try to do things too fast."

"I know, Don. I...goddit, okay?" I was never all that great at easing Don's perfectly justified fears of me doing something stupid and killing myself. The many, many nights he had spent up either bandaging or stitching all of us back together gave him every right to be a worried prick.

He stared at me, for a long, calculating moment, before he finally nodded permission.

Turning to Mikey, he said, softly, "Mikey, please put down the tray, and come over here. We need to move Raphael to that far wall."

From the corner, I heard Mikey set down the tray, and his footsteps. That bright grin withered on his lips into outright fear, as he suddenly turned to Don.

"We're moving him?"

He looked as if Don had suggested playing catch with a lit stick of dynamite. Don raised an eyeridge, puzzled. "Yes. We're going to set Raphael up against the wall so he can sit up and eat. I think it will do him some good after laying here for the last few days."

Mikey swallowed so hard I could hear his throat constrict, as he shook his head in one sharp jerk. "I'll get Leo."

Don frowned, and gave me a troubled glance. "Why? You're strong enough to lift him, aren't you?"

Mikey's grin was twisted and forced as he waved at me. "Dude, I'm a klutz, okay? It would be a lot better for Raph, and you if I got Leo, alright?"

And I watched, feeling like I had been punched in the gut, as Mikey started slinking away. Again. And once again, I found myself hurting like hell, from something much more painful than just the bruises.

Don must have saw the hurt on my face, because he barked out, "Mikey, damn it, stop! "

And Mikey stopped. My gut clenched when I saw him staring at the few feet between us like a cliff he was going to be shoved off.

He turned to face us, his eyes shimmering, and his jaw quaking. Don gave me a helpless shrug, bewildered at seeing our baby brother in tears.

I heard Don's steadying sigh, and felt the slight quaking in his arms as he kept me braced and upright across his plastron.

"Mikey, I know that this has been hard on you." Don was doing his damnest to stay patient, soft-spoken, and sweet, but I could hear the tremor of fury like an undercurrent.

"So, at the risk of thinking you're nothing but a complete and total asshole, I'm really hoping you can give us a reasonable explanation as to what the hell is going on."

Don's voice was clipped, and so very polite. He only did that when he was extremely pissed, which was scary.

I saw Mikey's knuckles turn white as he balled his fists and stuffed them under his armpits. And then I saw that look of fear melt into brittle, tired acceptance.

"If it's easier for you to think of me as being a complete and total asshole, then go with that." Mikey's voice was hard, as he shrugged, flatly.

Absolute silence on Don's part, and a sucker-punch of anguish on mine.

"Mi'ey?" I hated that shrill, pleading whine in my voice, as Mikey abruptly flopped down and crossed his legs. Another long, long sigh, as Mikey finally raised those tired, tired eyes to meet mine.

"I'm scared." Mikey whispered. I felt Don stiffen in surprise, as I squinted at Mikey.

"O' what? Me?" I jammed my thumb against my plastron, as Mikey shook his head, frustrated. What the hell could I possibly do if I couldn't even sit up without a production?

Mikey bit his lip. "I'm scared of everything, okay?" The bitterness in his voice was like acid. "Before this happened, I never worried about losing any of you, because it was never even a possibility, you know? I mean, we've all been hurt, but we've always, all of us, have bounced back, shook it off, and just kept going, right?"

And then the tears rose, as he snatched my good hand, and nearly crushed it between his shaking fingers. I bit back the wince.

"And suddenly, Master Splinter gets kidnapped from our home, and the strongest, biggest of my brothers nearly gets beaten to death, all within two days. And suddenly, we're all running for our lives, and I'm left holding my big brother's head in my lap, wondering if he's going to live."

He exhaled, sharply, as he plunged onward, nearly hysterical, "But now, it's not so sudden any more. Here, all we seem to do is wait. Wait for Raph to get better, to figure out what we're going to do about Master Splinter, or even if we're going back at all."

"Raph-" It was a choked, sobbed snarl, as Mikey just plunged his face in his hands and started crying. "I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry that I'm not smart like Don, or decisive like Leo or tough like you. I just..."

"Mi'ey, come here." I held out my good arm, and flicked my fingers towards him, as he suddenly, gently flung himself into my arms, despite Don's sharp protest.

I was ever grateful for Don's quiet, patient support, as he held me up, while I uncurled my painful arm and slowly, achingly wrapped it around my baby brother.

"...'s gonna be alright, Mi...Mikey." I felt him nod against my chest, which was soon slimed with his snot and his tears. Great.

Looking over my shoulder to Don, I slurred out, " -m al...alright, Don. Le' me go."

"I'll let you go when I'm sure you can hold yourself upright, and not a moment beforehand. I know this isn't enjoyable, Raph, but you can't get hurt again."

"Don't need the damn wall."

Tentatively, Don let go but hovered only a few inches away, in case I toppled..

"Are you sure you're able to stay upright, Raph?" Don couldn't stop the troubled question, as I tolerantly nodded.

Tentatively, Don let go but hovered only a few inches away, in case I toppled..

I gave him a smirk when I didn't fall flat on my face. "Told ya, Don. 'm sittin' up."

The relieved smile was rather forced and wan as Don only shook his head with a quiet chuckle. "Just be careful that you don't overdo it, Raph."

I heard Mikey snicker through his tears, "Raph, you look as smug as a king getting back on his throne."

I gave him a warning huff, and shrugged away from Don again. I even growled at him.

"Quid yore dam fusssin', Don."

Don gestured in helpless frustration. "I know, I know. It's irritating. And I'm sorry. I just-"

"Don." I halted the stammered out apology with a quiet nudge of my foot.

"I...I owe ya." I whispered, as Don felt the quick, warm flicker of my good arm over his shoulder.  
Clearing my throat, I swallowed back some of the tears of my own, before turning back to Mikey.

"Owe all o' ya...T...thanks."

Mikey laughed brightly as he worked his way out of my embrace, putting on the joy like a coat.

He nearly bounced over to the tray, as he scooted it closer.

"It's good to have you back, bro."

I shrugged at that. "Ain' back all the way, Mi'ey."

Mikey scowled at me. "Maybe not yet."

The scowl curled upward into a smile. "But you will be, bro! I mean, look at how far you've already come in the last few days. Staying awake, speaking, sitting up..."

Don must have notices my quick, badly hidden trembled that rippled through me.

"What is it, Raph?" Don asked, quietly.

I said nothing, only shutting my eyes before they flooded over. I didn't know what the hell I had ever done for the Almighty to give me my brothers. They were worthy of so damn much more.

Mikey gave Don a helpless, questioning glance, as Don minutely shrugged in answer.

"Raph?" Mikey ventured, gently, as he leaned forward.

Mikey nearly choked back the cry as I opened my eyes that were glittering with unshed tears that I furiously blinked back.

"Nothin'." The word was a soft snarl. Silence. Agonized, helpless silence, as time slid by, and Mikey and Don waited in quiet desperation for something...anything, to help me.

I love you guys. I owe you my life. I owe you everything and so damn much, and all I can do is sit here and snivel...

I didn't bother to voice any of my disjointed thoughts. I had never been one to divulge anything of my emotional storms before this, when I had the words to speak, or the bag to punch...or the simple ability to get the hell up and run, or fight.

I forced his my lips to curl upward, as I jerked my head towards the food.

"Le's eat, eh? 's been a while."

Mikey presented the tray with a mocking flourish, flapping the towels with a pop, and ignoring my warning glare as he draped them over my plastron.

"Come on, bro. I don't think you want to wear the food, do you?"


	25. A Glimpse

An extra long chapter in conpensation for the fact that I have been so late in updating this. I hope you enjoy.

Michelangelo:

Mikey harbored very few illusions that Raphael would be pleased with the offering of mashed potatoes, chocolate pudding, or the sandwich that had been chopped to finger food and covered with cheeze wiz. It was hardly gourmet, or appetizing, but it was the only food that was soft enough to pass Don's approval for the first meal.

It had to be soft, and easily chewed.

After seeing the bruises that trailed along Raph's jawline, the way he kept his jaw clenched, Mikey silently agreed.

Whether Raphael would eat or not, however, was a completely different matter. Don could only speculate on how hungry or tired Raph would be. Since he seemed to be on the mend, Don could only offer the suggestion of following Raph's lead, and letting him sleep and eat as needed. And Don had been very explicit in telling his hopeful, eager brothers that while Raphael was finally recovering somewhat, he had a long, hard road ahead. It wouldn't do to push him faster than his physical limitations.

Inwardly sighing, Mikey shook his head at the grim facts.

With an effort, he graced Raphael with a bright smile, and set the tray close enough to be viewed, with the air of presenting a feast.

"Dinner is served, bro! Hope you're hungry. Yum, yum!" Mikey popped the large kitchen towel open and laid between them with a flourish. He could only imagine how displeased Raphael would be if he tried to tie it like a bib around his neck.

Raphael said nothing at all, only looked from the tray to Mikey and back again, with a shrug.

"I hope you know how much I slaved away in the kitchen to cook this up, Raph."

The bright joke faltered miserably, as Raphael glared at his first meal with a scowl.

"Whad...what the hell iss dis?" Raphael flung his good hand over the bowls with the pudding and potatoes.

"Mashed potatoes, chocolate pudding, and a cheeze-wiz sandwich. And I guess water, if you want that."

"It's goop." Raphael eyed the tray distainfully, with a shake of his head.

Mikey apologetically nudged him. "I know that it's not your favorite, Raph, and I'm sorry. When you're better, I'll cook you a steak, okay? But, could you pretty please try to eat at least a few bites? For me?"

Mikey took great care to make his eyes as beseeching and pleading as possible. Raphael sighed, and gave him a resigned shrug as he finally nodded.

"Come on, bro, it can't be that bad."

Raphael rolled his eyes at the entreaty. "Y...yeah. Yum, yum."

It was the clearest sentence he had spoken since his fall through the roof.

For one odd moment, Raphael's old and familiar sarcasm made Mikey's gut clench with both joy and overwhelming loss. The glimmer of Raphael was almost enough to compensate for those horrible days when his big brother lay there, helpless.

"Well, Don said that you needed soft, mushy stuff that was easy to swallow. And this is better than baby food."

At that, Raphael gave Mikey a look that could scour paint from a wall, clearly disagreeing.

"Kidding. Sorry."

Mikey dabbed the spoon into the mashed potatoes, and brought the glob inches from Raph's mouth.

"Ready? Open up, bro."

Leaning forward, Mikey had only the innocent intention of feeding his older brother. He yelped in suprise when he felt Raphael's good hand suddenly engulf his own.

Raphael snarled, as he snatched the spoon from Mikey with his good hand. Giving Mikey a poisonous glare, he shoved the spoon into his mouth.

Mikey stared at his empty fingers, bewildered as Raphael grimaced but swallowed it down. Lip curling in disgust at the taste, Raphael set the spoon down, and carefully wrapped his fingers around the glass of water.

Glaring at Mikey over the quivering rim of the glass, Raphael growled,"I c'n feed m'self. Ain't a damn baby."

Mikey watched as Raph hefted the shaking glass to his mouth. Mike said nothing as the glass slid from his grip and dumped water all over his plastron.

Raphael grit his teeth, curled his fingers around the glass harder, and brought it back to his lips, swallowing down what was left. The glass clattered from his hand, rolled off his shell, and tumbled to the corner, ignored.

Mikey only watched in agonized silence. Raphael shut his eyes in humilation, clutching his good hand to his forehead to hide the tears.

He only heard Mikey's infinitely patient sigh, the clatter of the tray being moved, and the softness of the towel being shoved into his hand.

"Tell you what, Raph. Why don't you dry off a bit, and I'll get you a glass with a handle. And we can try this again, alright?"

Raphael cracked his eyes open, to see Mikey's soft smile of understanding. "I know that this is hard, Raph. But, I also know that you are my big, tough brother who is going to get through this. Ready to try again?"

Something warm and grateful flickered in Raphael's eyes as he finally smiled back at Mikey.

He nodded. And then, Raphael carefully worked his fingers into the towel, and started mopping up the wet from his plastron.

"Alright, bro. I'll go get another glass. Be right back." Mikey kept the bright cheer slathered on like concrete as he rose for the kitchen.

Leo warily tensed when he heard the glass clatter to the floor. From his perch at the end of the hallway, he couldn't make out any of the words, just Mikey's gentle soothing and the Raphael's low, rasped answer. When he heard the hasty way the tray was laid down, and the odd way that Mikey nearly bolted down the hallway, his worry grew to outright alarm. Mikey had scampered down the hallway too fast to notice Leo, even if he had turned around.

Leo stared at the open door to Raph's room with dread, wondering what sort of wound Mikey had inflicted now.

Shoving the door open, he strode in. "Raph? Are you alright?"

Raphael grunted from the corner he was propped in, struggling with one hand to clean up the last of the water.

Looking up with a raised eyebrow, he met Leo's worried question with a nod.

"...m fine, Leo." Raphael said, quietly, as he went back to cleaning up the mess.

"Are you sure? I just saw Mikey run out of the room, and I thought-"

Raphael looked up, sharply. "Mi'ey did'd do anyfing wrong, Leo."

It felt like a slap. Leo felt himself withering under Raphael's accusing glare.

Raphael sighed, and shook his head, before tossing the towel to the side. He winced when he saw it flutter a few feet away like a dying butterfly.

Before all of this, he could have thrown a sai a few hundred feet and sever a throat. Now, he couldn't even throw a towel across the room.

Leo said nothing as he walked over, picked up the towel, and folded it. Setting it on the dresser, he turned back to Raphael, clearly uncertain.

"I didn't mean to imply that Mikey is doing anything wrong, Raph. I just came in here to make sure that you're alright." Raphael blanched at the barely hidden plea in his words.

Looking down, he clenched his fists in the blankets, and watched as his good hand curled and his injured limb barely twitched.

"Leo...dis is so damn hard." The words were as soft as they were brittle, as Raphael shook his head.

He felt the blankets shift as Leo seated himself beside him. Wearily, Leo slumped, nearly against him, saying nothing. What in the hell was he supposed to say for this?

Raphael didn't protest or pull away when Leo laced his fingers over Raphael's good hand and brought it to rest on his own lap.

Finally, Raphael tightened his grip against Leo's hands with a grunt. "'s not as hard as it was, dough."


	26. Distance

Raphael's viewpoint:

"Leo...dis is so damn hard."

Damn it to hell, my words were still slurred and as busted as my sore jaws. Inside, though, my teeth were grinding together in from the helpless frustration and anger. I quickly stopped when the pain shot through my jaw. I managed to choke back the yelp before Fearless felt the need to baby me even more.

So, there it was. The truth in all its glory, nicely slithered out before my oldest, most protective and irritating brother. It hurt. I hurt. Hell, we were all hurting, and I didn't know how to fix any of it.

I waited for Leo to say something nice and kind and false, like how quickly I'd be out of bed, and how I'd be up dancing around in a few days. I waited for him to force on another bright, fake smile, and try to soothe away nightmares that nobody could save me from now.

Leo let out his heavy sigh, and gave me an even heavier look as he tiredly nodded.

"You're right, Raph. It is so damn hard."

Fearless narrowed his eyes when he saw my wince, but thank God, he let it pass without any dramatics for once. I watched him, as he sighed, opened his mouth, and closed it just as quick. And then, he folded his legs next to the wall, and plopped down beside me. I flinched from surprise as he wearily slumped his shell against my good side, and suddenly, he took my good hand between his own, and folded his fingers over it. His eyes were glittering as he took my hand and let it rest on his knee. He shook his head.

"Raph….I wish to God I knew how to fix this for you. For us. And I can't."

Now, as you've probably guessed, I suck at cuddling, comfort or any of that mushy stuff.

I tightened my fingers against his, and finally grunted, " 's alright, Leo. 'm getting' better."

"I knew you were tough, Raph. I just didn't know how tough you were until this." Leo gave me a slow smile.

I snorted at that. "Ain't tough, Leo. I just lived."

A soft whisper, and a gentle squeeze of my hand. "And thank God you did, Raph."

Our conversation was interrupted by Mikey's gleeful clomping like a horse, up the stair and brandishing the coffee cup.

"Hate to intrude on this sweet moment of brotherly love, but Don says Raph needs to drink this. Here, bro."

Mikey flopped down to one knee without spilling a drop, and held out the cup, inches from my hand. I wrapped my fingers round the handle, dragged it to my lips, and took a sip. I expected water, but I got a mouthful of something that resembled chocolate flavored gravel. I nearly spit it back into the cup.

"What da hell is dis?"

I scowled as Mikey hitched his shoulders, apologetically. "It's protein powder. Don said it would help you recover faster. Build up muscle mass, or something."

I glared at the cup, but swallowed as much as I could, if only to get Don off of my ass. I nibbled on the cheese-whiz sandwich, and stomached what I could of the rest of the food. Mikey graciously took the shaking plate before I dropped it, and Leo helped me lean back against the wall.

Mikey gave me another bright grin as he bundled up the dishes and the fouled rags to take back to the kitchen.

Leo and I fell into that uncomfortable silence again, as I stared at my hands, now curled in my lap. The difference between them was sickening. My right hand-my good one- was familiar-green, scarred and calloused. My left hand- the one that had taken part of the brunt of the fall-kept twitching. The fingers were swollen like puffy little sausages, and there was a long, nearly indigo line of a bruise that smeared from my elbow to my knuckles. It looked like splotchy and weird, like I had dipped the outer part of my arm in a can of purple paint.

At my side, I heard Leo's soft sigh, as he looked ruefully at the wound.

"Sore?"

"A little."

"Would you tell me if it was more than a little, Raph?"

I tilted my head towards him, not sure how to answer that. "Wouldn't need to. You'd just know."

Leo's chuckle was more bitter and sad than anything else as he shook his head. "Never with you."

I narrowed my eyes at the bitter accusation behind the words.

"Get off it, Leo. Ain't nothing about me that you don't know."

I felt his flinch, as he suddenly yanked away like I burned him. And I could only stare, bewildered at that look of hurt that flickered over his face.

His shoulders hitched as he shook his head. "You don't get it at all, do you, Raph?"

I shook my head. "Screw it, Leo. Either tell me what the hell I ain't getting', or drop it."

Leo looked away, torn, before he drew out a long, shaking breath. I watched as he balled his hands into tense fists and then gripped them over his folded knees.

"When we were little, and one of us was hurt, or scared, Mikey would cry, and Donny would get clingy. And they would always come to me if they couldn't get Splinter. And it was alright, because I'm their big brother, and I knew how to comfort them. Donny wanted answers, and Mikey wanted reassurance. Once they had that, they were fine . But you…." Leo sighed, and I felt his fingers tense against mine. His dark eyes were troubled with years of unanswered questions as he stared at me.

"You never came to me at all, Raph."

I could hear the bitter acid of his words as they seemed to crawl into my very soul. Leo hitched his shoulders, helplessly.

"And no matter how hard I tried to be there for you, to love you, to understand you, or just to reach you…it never worked. You never came to me. Why?"

Leo's voice drifted into silence again, as I shook my head.

"Leo, what da hell could you have done, eh? Kiss my boo-boos an' make'em better? Give me a good talkin' to? Blab to Master Splinter on all the dumb stuff I did?"

Leo crumbled, then as his lips tightened into a shaky white line.

" I always felt like I was standing on one side of the cliff and you on the other, and no matter how hard I tried to bridge the gap, that distance was always there." Leo whispered.

Torture. This was torture. I didn't know what to do with this. I didn't know how the hell to talk to Leo without making it worse.

"Is **that **why, Raph? Because you didn't trust me enough to be there? Because you just thought of me as being Splinter's little spy?"

I winced when I saw his trembling, and that horrible wet that suddenly shimmered in his eyes.

"Damn it, Leo, dat….dat isn't it at all."

Leo swallowed, and his voice was as brittle as fracturing glass when he finally shifted his gaze to me again.

"Then what was it, Raph? What **is** it, now? Why can't you let me close enough to help you?"

"Because it's not your damn job to fix me, Leo! It ain't Don's job, or Mikey's or April's or anybody else's! You got any damn idea what it's like to be treated like I'm some busted, broken thing that's always got to be fixed? That I'm so stupid and helpless that I can't do a thing unless my big brother is there to save my ass? Hell, you must have loved havin' dis happen to me! You probably think I deserved dis for bein' on the roof and not under your thumb like a good little brother should be!"

Leo recoiled, eyes burning with tears and rage. He was quaking as his throat worked, probably swallowing back all the venom he could hurl.

Damn it! Damn it to hell! The remorse hit me, quick and cold as I felt the apology die somewhere between the reasons swirling in my brain and the sudden feeling of being punched in the gut.

"You're damn lucky that you are injured and helpless right now, Raph." Leo snarled, softly, as he suddenly snatched me and abruptly dumped me back into the blankets, ignoring my grunt and wince of pain.

He rose, strode to the door, and barked down the hall, "Mikey! Get in here!"

I heard a yelp, and some scrambling as Mikey suddenly emerged, looking wide-eyed and scared.

"Leo? Something wrong?" Mikey gave me a fearful glance, as Leo's angry, twisted face softened a bit in fake reassurance. Forcing the smile that never met his eyes, he shook his head.

"I'm sorry for yelling, Mike. Relax, you're not in trouble."

Mikey's tension dribbled out like air from a popped balloon. Giving me a glare and a shake of dismissal, Leo stepped aside, and gestured towards me.

"Would you mind sitting with Raphael for a while?"

Mikey gave me a troubled glance and then shook his head, worriedly. "No, bro. Not at all. Why don't you go get some air, Leo? You look like you need it."

I heard Leo draw a shaking breath as he nodded. "I do."

I watched him clap a hand over Mikey's shoulder in gratitude, then stride out without looking back at me.

Mikey stared at the door that Leo had slammed shut, and then at me, bewildered. Flopping to his knees, he scooted until we were only inches apart.

"Raph? Dude, what happened?"


	27. Leonardo: A Searing Moment of Clarity

Leonardo's viewpoint:

I managed to mask the tears that kept threatening to spill over. All I remember, was Raphael's sad, resigned shrug, and his garbled words..

"This is so damn hard, Leo."

I have always, always hated being helpless, especially when it came to my little brothers. And now, all that was left was the simple, brutal truth.

_I am so, so sorry, Raph. I don't know how to fix this, either. If I did, I would have by now…._

I left the futile thought unspoken, as I uneasily edged towards him. Raphael had always been wary of any contact, instinctively flinching away from all of us. Not even Splinter was capable of soothing him at times. Indeed, Raphael was now staring at me, with the wariness of a rabbit under a wheeling hawk. Was I truly that terrible of a brother? Did Raphael really think I would be so cruel as to chastise him, _now?_ . I knew in that moment of weakness, any advice, encouragement, planning…all the things that I had to offer, were useless.

I was useless.

I stared down at my brother, wondering how we could be only a few feet apart, physically, and yet, he was like an island, surrounded by currents that I could never understand, let alone cross.

And, yet again, I was with Raphael in the same room, and feeling so very alone.

"You're right, Raph. This is so damn hard." I said, quietly. Raphael jerked sharply in surprise as he slid his dark, and questioning eyes towards mine, eye ridges raised.

I didn't know what other comfort I possibly had left to give, so I lowered myself next to him, so that we could look each other in the eyes. I saw Raphael tense, and the puzzled scowl twist his lips as he regarded me, suspiciously.

I felt my heart plummet like a cannon ball as I desperately, suddenly snatched his good hand in mine. I threaded our fingers together, until our scars knuckles were woven together as tight as stitches, and I brought his hand to rest on my knee.

"Raph….I wish to God I knew how to fix this for you. For us. And I can't."

Raphael stiffened, his eyes widening with shock, and then swept down from my face to our hands. He gave me a slow, sad smirk of understanding, as he shook his head.

"Leo…." He faltered, as his fingers tightened in my shaking fists. Swallowing hard, I felt him quickly pat my hand with his bruised one.

"It's alright. 'm gettin' better."

I sat there, next to him so torn between guilt and love that _he_ felt the need to comfort _me_. My brother had been almost beaten to death, and he lay, bruised, and weak. And yet, he was trying to comfort me.

What the hell was wrong with me? Was I suddenly so pathetic that even Raph had to lend strength that he didn't have? The thought was as brutal as it was quick, and I honestly did not know what to do.

"I knew you were tough. I just didn't know how tough you were until this." The praise seemed to anger him, because Raph scowled up at me, with an all too familiar glower.

He sighed, and irritably hitched his shoulders. "Ain't tough, Leo. I just lived."

The bitterly familiar distance and bitterness had settled between us, as close as skin. The silence stretched on, as Raph grit his teeth, and snatched his hand out of mine, as though my flesh had somehow burned him.

"Thank God you did, Raph." I breathed out, trying to rid my treacherous brain of the horrific memory of his plummet from nearly two stories, the bloodied sprawl, and the corpselike stillness. I shook my head, the after-image still burned in my skull.

Our conversation was abruptly and suddenly severed by Michelangelo's exuberant entrance, as he brandished Raphael's meal, and promptly squatted before him. I watched as Raphael endured Mikey's cheer, with a rare tolerance, and choking down what he could of the paltry fair, before he resolutely shook his head.

And, with just as much pomp, Michelangelo gathered up the dishes, and bundled them away before I could even thank him.

Raphael's wince and grunt was as loud and revealing as a firework. Alarmed, I had to force my arms to remain at my sides, as I looked at him, worriedly.

"Sore?"

Raphael grimaced at the question, my concern, my fear, as he huffed in annoyance.

Finally, at long last, I was rewarded with the gruff admission of "A little."

Do you know how hard it is to have a loved one hurting? Do you know how hard it is for me to watch my brother suffer, and have him push away any attempt at comfort? This had been a hell that I visited over the years, and now, it seemed that I was a permanent resident.

"Would you tell me if it were more than a little, Raph?"

_If you were dying, and the last thing left for you to do was admit that you were in pain…would you do that, at least? Or do you really like suffering more than asking me for help? Am I that damn awful, Raph?_

"Wouldn't need to." Raph nearly snarled it, as he glared at me again, before bitterly adding, "Not with you."

"Get off it, Leo. Ain't nothing about me that you don't know."

He whispered the sneer, as he shook his head. His shoulders hitched as he shook his head.

It would have been kinder if Raphael had taken his sai and plunged it through my heart. I balled my fingers into fists, and swallowed back the rage and sting of anguish. My brother's eyes slid to mine, glittering with distain, and it became as clear as it was agonizing.

His face contorted, as if he had eaten something disgusting and hadn't spit it out yet.

"You don't get it at all, do you, Raph?"

Raphael grimaced again, as he shook his head.

"Screw it, Leo. Either tell me what the hell I ain't getting', or drop it!"

He flung his hand at me, gesturing for me to get done and get the hell away from him.

I drew a wounded, trembling breath, fighting for calm against the hurt now trickling like ice through my thoughts. Swallowing hard, I forced myself onward, feeling like a derailed train going over a cliff.

"When we were little, and one of us was hurt, or scared, Mikey would cry, and Donny would get clingy. And they would always come to me if they couldn't get Splinter. And it was alright, because I'm their big brother, and I knew how to comfort them. Donny wanted answers, and Mikey wanted reassurance. Once they had that, they were fine . But you…."

The silence was only broken by my scraped whisper.

"You never came to me at all, Raph."

Helplessly, I continued, not bothering to hide the plea for an answer, any answer.

"And no matter how hard I tried to be there for you, to love you, to understand you, or just to reach you…it never worked. You never came to me. Why?"

Raphael suddenly lurched upward, good arm coiling against his side as if he were going to punch something.

His face twisted, as he snarled out, "Leo, what da hell could you have done, eh? Kiss my boo-boos an' make'em better? Give me a good talkin' to? Blab to Master Splinter on all the dumb stuff I did?"

I nearly crumbled then, as the emotions stormed through my gut and all of my fragmented thoughts skittered like broken glass through my skull. I hated losing control like this. It rarely happened, but when it did, it was awful.

"Is **that **why, Raph? Because you didn't trust me enough to be there? Because you just thought of me as being Splinter's little spy?"

I flung the accusation between us, his old label for me scraping me raw, even now. Something like dismay flickered over Raph's face as he shook it, desperately.

"Leo..Damn it, Leo, dat….dat isn't it at all."

"Then what was it, Raph? What **is** it, now? Why can't you let me close enough to help you?" I was nearly shrieking then, towering over him, and nearly sickened at how small and frail he looked. Raphael recoiled under my blistering demand, and roared back at me, furious.

"Because it's not your damn job to fix me, Leo! It ain't Don's job, or Mikey's or April's or anybody else's! You got any damn idea what it's like to be treated like I'm some busted, broken thing that's always got to be fixed? That I'm so stupid and helpless that I can't do a thing unless my big brother is there to save my ass? Hell, you must have loved havin' dis happen to me! You probably think I deserved dis for bein' on the roof and not under your thumb like a good little brother should be!"

The sudden rage quelling through my veins mercifully numbed the pain of the abrupt realization.

Raphael hated me. My own brother, even crippled and damaged, in mind and body as he was, flung the venom at me, without sarcasm, without any attempt to dull it.

He truly, truly hated me. What else was there to explain any of this?

I started quaking, as I forced my trembling limbs to rise. My throat worked, as words I would never say and the level I refused to stoop to, lingered, unspoken.

Leo recoiled, eyes burning with tears and rage. He was quaking as his throat worked, probably swallowing back all the venom he could hurl.

The cloying numbness was a merciful change from agony, or anger. I suddenly felt both very empty and very detached as I finally ground out, "You're damn lucky that you are injured and helpless right now, Raph."

Heedless of his wounds, I snatched him from his leaning against the wall, and lowered him back into the blankets, ignoring his wince of pain, the flinch as I deliberately jarred his injured shoulder into the sheets. I rose, then, shaking my head in final dismissal.

_To hell with this, and to hell with you, Raph. _

If I was around him much longer, I knew I would hurt him, and I couldn't do that to my other brothers.

Thank God Michelangelo came bustling back in, with cheer to spare. I excused myself curtly, leaving Mikey bewildered. I didn't bother looking back at Raph. God help me, I couldn't.

Sometimes, in my more crippled moments of disabling rage, I'll politely excuse myself from the ruckus of my younger siblings, the relentless responsibilities, and the constant, nagging fear that I will fail them when they need me the most. In those moments, I instinctively seek solitude, and silence, to both calm my never ending angst, but most of all for clarity and direction.

I found solitude in the woodlands around the farm house. I found the gloaming green of the trees,and the sunlight to be soothing to my broken focus and scattered thoughts. I made a wide circle, keeping the farm house within view, and scoping the vegetation around me for any possible danger. Except for the birdsong, and the occasional flicker of a squirrel, there was no other living creature to worry about.

I breathed in the musty smell of the earth, the odd, savage beauty of soil and plants, of life itself. Here, there was a small clearing, and a jutting stump, with a bit of a hollow in its roots. I had found this place during one of my first missions of mapping out the land, and seeing if there were any humans that could threaten us.

In this small clearing , the stump was a solitary, desolute thing that jutted brokenly from the earth. It was also the perfect place for me to meditate. Drawing a deep, cleansing breath, I braced my shell against the stump, crossed my legs and shut my eyes, trying and failing to control my anger.

Breathing deeper, breathing in calm, exhaling the fire in my gut, I finally settled the warring in my soul for a bit of elusive peace. Many people seem to view mediation as nothing more than an emptying of self, a time to pour out whatever thoughts trouble you, and exchange it for peaceful oblivion.

For some, it may be that way, but for me, it was far deeper. If done correctly, it was a quiet awareness that eclipsed any troubling thoughts, of giving myself to permission to find peace in spite of its existence, and to gently acknowledge a problem without forcing an answer. This sort of detachment-from emotion, fear, or myself-was the sort of clarity that I desperately needed now.

I shut my eyes, allowed my breathing to slow, as the tension gently trickled away after a long struggle within. My breathing had taken on the gentle cadence of the sounds of the forest, as I exhaled again. Unfortunately, my thoughts were still interrupting as all the tortured questions continued their barrage.

Grimacing, I forced myself to conjure up a peaceful memory, one of a thousand that now seemed swept away with the flood of horror.

In my mind's eye, I envisioned, the Lair intact. The familiar flicker of candle light sliding gold over the bricks, as Splinter sat serenely on a dojo mat, paws extended towards mine, in welcome. I felt the tears sliding down my cheek, and the longing sear through my very soul. I envisioned myself fleeing like a child into the sheltering arms of the one that I could always run to. I felt the gentle brush of a reassuring paw, quiet understanding. It felt like home.

At one point, it was home.

And, then, suddenly, like ripples in a pond after a stone is tossed into the water, the scene changed, heedless of my will. Master Splinter, my father, broken, robe torn, cruelly chained to a fence and left to die. His head drooped, as the blood trickled from his wounded ear. I could hear ragged breathing, the clink of shackles, the cackle of vicious laughter.

To my agonized horror, I saw my father wearily raise his dull, tired eyes towards mine, and narrow. I heard him heave out my name in desperation, before he dropped his head and said no more.

"Leonardo."

My eyes shot open, and I nearly toppled, disoriented and sickened. My breath came flooding back, and I was gasping as if I had surfaced from drowning. Blinking and bewildered, I stared at the trees around me, half expecting, hoping, praying that Master Splinter would somehow appear. Burying my face in my trembling hands, I shook my head.

What I had just experienced was no dream. It was a vision of some sort…or maybe a message. I didn't trouble myself to decide as I wobbled to my feet, braced myself against a branch, and took off at a full run towards the farm house. Master Splinter was out there, held captive, and injured, but alive.


	28. Raphael: Tremble

Raph's point of view:

"Leo? Something wrong?" Mikey gave me a fearful glance, as Leo's angry, twisted face softened a bit in fake reassurance. Forcing the smile that never met his eyes, he shook his head.

"I'm sorry for yelling, Mike. Relax, you're not in trouble." I could hear the bitterly familiar undercurrent of anger in Leo's voice as he rose.

Mikey's tension dribbled out like air from a popped balloon. Giving me a glare and a shake of dismissal, Leo stepped aside, and gestured towards me. I heard his seething breath, rattling out between clenched teeth, the flicker of shadow as he let a long, steadying exhalation. Shutting his eyes, he put a palm to his forehead, and pinched his beak with a grimace. He always did that when he was pissed.

"Everything alright, Leo?" Mikey asked worriedly, as he looked down at me for an answer. I just snarled and rolled away from them both as much as I could.

"I need some air. Would you mind sitting with Raph for a bit?" Leo attempted and failed miserably to keep his words calm.

"Not at all, bro." Mikey was oddly quiet, as his lips curled up in the glorious attempt to slather on some cheer.

"Besides, it's been a while since Raph and I've spent some time together. He and I can catch up or something."

"Thank you."

I watched Leo clap a hand over Mikey's shoulder in gratitude, then stride out without looking back. Mikey stared at the door that Leo had slammed shut, and then at me, bewildered. Flopping to his knees, he scooted until we were only inches apart.

"Raph? Dude, what happened?"

I was still too pissed off and hurt to give any answer but a glare at the door. I heard Mikey's soft sigh of understanding, as he shrugged with a crooked grin.

"Leo means well, but he can get really, really annoying."

My eyes slid to his. Normally, Mikey would never wow me with his smarts, or his perception, but damned if he didn't seem borderline psychic at times when it came to reading his brothers.

Snarling, I gave the door my middle finger. Mikey tilted his head. "That bad, huh? What did he do?"

I glared at Mikey and shook my head. "Forget it, Mikey. I ain't gettin' into it twice in one day."

Mikey raised a placating palm, and breathed out. "Raph, it's okay. You don't have to explain anything to me."

He hitched his shoulders, accepting Leo's bull and my hissy fit with the same tolerance that he always given us. Thank God Mikey never held grudges.

Uneasily, Mikey eyed the door, and me, as his fingers worked into worried little knots.

"Do you want me to go after Leo?" I hated that damn uncertainty in his voice and the way he kept looking at the door as if he wanted to bolt.

"Do whatever the hell you want, Mikey. If I'm that much of an asshole, go ahead and leave. Ain't a damn thing I can do to stop you."

My words were so heavy with bitterness that I could barely choke them out. I shut my eyes and folded my arms and wished to hell that I could be anything but helpless and anywhere but this damn room with my pile of sheets and broken body and an even more broken family.

I lowered my face to stare at my knees, to hide both the tears and the terror that Mikey would really take me up on that, and leave me here. I felt as if my very bones were rooted to the floor. I don't know how long I sat there in those tortured moments, waiting for my baby brother to say the hell with me.

I wouldn't have blamed him, or Leo, or Don, if they had just wadded me up, with the sheets as my funeral shroud and this wooden room as my tomb, and left me here to die. It would have been so much easier for all of them if the fall had killed me, if the Foot had done their damn job and ended it on that roof top. At least, my brothers would be free of dealing with my crap, and could move on with their lives, and hopefully, I'd be at peace. Now, everything seemed to be bound up and strangled by how many inches I could move and a recovery that may never come. Hell, the worst wasn't over. It had only started.

I heard another brittle sigh, the scrape of shell against wall, as Mikey abruptly squatted down in front of me.

"You're right, Raph. There isn't a damn thing you can do to stop me." His sudden snarl was brittle and unexpected as the hard hands on my shoulders. I felt his fingers curl under my chin, and gently force my face towards his. We were only inches apart, as I felt his hands slip to my shoulders and come to rest. Looking into my eyes, Mikey tilted his head.

"You need to get this through your thick skull, matter how matter how pissed off you get, or how much you push me away, or how hard this becomes ,I'm not leaving you, Raph. Leo's not leaving you, Don's not leaving you, and April's not leaving you. Got it?"

His voice and intentions were set as concrete, and he looked as resolute as Leo.

I stared up at my little brother, wondering just when and how he had gotten to be so damn strong. He stood over me, as steady as a mountain, waiting for my answer.

"Yeah, Mikey…..I got it." I fumbled out the answer, as Mikey finally rocked back on his haunches with an understanding nod, and another bright smile.

"Great! Glad we got that cleared up!" Mr. Sunshine apparently had his cheer restored, and all was well in his world for the moment.

I squinted up at him. "It ain't over, Mikey."

Mikey gave me another accepting shrug as the smile withered. "True enough. But since when has it _ever_ been over between you and Leo? Besides," he smirked, again, "Leo's not here, is he? And neither is Don. Which means that I'm in charge for a bit."

I scowled at that. "You ain't bossin' me around, little brother. Get that through your thick head already."

Mikey ignored my growling as he idly slid away from me. Suddenly snatching the nunchuck from his belt, he twirled it languidly, giving me another smile. Dangling the handle a few inches from my narrowed eyes, he whispered, "I bet you miss it….having your weapons…fighting. In fact, I bet everything inside of you is screaming for the chance to get up and kick some Foot ass."

The lilting tease in his voice was crueler than any of the times he accidently hurt me. It was like I was a puppy that had just pissed the floor and he was rubbing my face in it. Was he getting off on flaunting how helpless I was? Was he trying to piss me off?

Mikey must have saw the anger, because he wisely glided away, his quiet chuckle fragmenting in the heavy silence.

"In fact, Raph, I'm getting really tired of seeing you just lay around, dude. It's just not like you, at all. I hope this helps, bro."

Mikey raised an eye ridge, as he dropped back down at the edge of the pallet. I stared at the outstretched hand, the bright red material spilling from his fingers like blood from a wound. My mask.

Frayed, and stained with an even darker red, but still mine, and so very missed. I snatched it from his hand, and fumbled when I tried to force my good hand to tie the knot.

"Here. Let me help."

Mikey ignored my snarl and I felt gentle fingers work the mask into position, as he tied the ends into the knot at the base of my skull. The edge of red now filled the world, again and it felt so damn good. Mikey rocked back on his heels, with a small, satisfied smirk.

"_Now_ you look like Raph again. One more thing, bro."

Mikey paused, as he turned to the small side table where my mask and my sais had been arranged into some sort of weird altar. I heard the small clang and metal sliding against metal as Mikey awkwardly plucked them up, and just stared at them, as they dangled from his wrists.

Giving me another smirk, he twirled them in his fingers, and I scowled when one of them clattered to the floor.

He flew to the floor, and scooped it up, babbling out the apology, and waving his hands.

"Sorry!"

I gave him a look that could scour paint, and held out both of my shaking hands.

"Damn it, Mikey, give them to me before you break 'em."

Mikey's lips curled into a pout. "Come on, dude, they're _metal. _ You can't break them by dropping them."

He breathed out, and very carefully shoved the pommels into the grip of my shaking fingers. I felt the familiarity of heaviness, of worn leather, of the two blades that were as much a part of me as my flesh. My fingers coiled around them, as I cradled them close, relishing the glittering points, the promise of kicking Foot ass, of getting out of these sheets, of becoming me again. God, I had missed them.

Mikey's eyes flickered from the dull gleam that slid over the edge of the blades to mine. He suddenly snatched up a dishrag that had been tossed in with the used pile of sheets that April would be taking downstairs to wash in the morning.

Stroking his chin, he hummed, and tacked it up on the far wall. I watched as he picked up one of Don's pens, scribbled on his palm to get the ink going, and then he drew a big circle on the rag. Giving me another smirk, he bowed with a flourish.

"Here, Raph. Target practice. Pretend it's Shredder's head."

I snarled at that, hitched myself up as many inches as I could, pivoted the sai in my good hand, and flung it.

Mikey watched, wide-eyed as the sai cart-wheeled through the air, into one spinning arc of light before landing hilt-deep in the center of the target. There was the dull vibration as the sai trembled from the force of my throw.

My bad hand-busted, and mottled with bruises, ached as I forced my fingers open and adjusted the grip. Hell, my fingers were twitching so much from the spasm that the blade landed with a muted thud into the blankets.

I ignored the disappointment that washed Mikey's glee away into one sad, pained trickle as he hitched his shoulders. Gritting my teeth, anger, and anguish and hatred seething through my coiled are muscles, I grabbed the damn sai, heaved it high, ignoring the pain shooting through my arm.

I threw it. The throw itself was screwed up, since my arm was too injured to work that great, but the sai soared high, and struck the handle of its sister like a gong. The blade nicked a neat little slit through the cloth before it crashed to the floor like a swatted wasp.

Mikey eyed me with disbelief before dissolving into a bright, happy giggle. I tried not to wince as he flopped down to his knees, enthusiasm burbling over, as he breathed out and nearly squealed from that weird, happy streak of his.

"Welcome back, Raph. " He gave me a knowing smirk, and a wink.


	29. Splinter: A Father's Agony

The worst torture was not the physical agony, but the uncertainty about his beloved sons. Splinter had nothing but time to consider every horrific possibility, as the day slowly crawled by. Dully, he watched the last rays of the sun fade over the roar of cars, concrete, the clusters of brutal young men that constantly fought like starving dogs over the last scrap. Inwardly, Splinter shivered at the brutality and the tragic waste of the whole thing. Had he time, were he human, he might have considered at least talking to a few of these poor, confused souls, and see if kindness and attention could unearth the gold, the humanity, under the hardened sneers each seem to have. They seemed as lost, confused children, and not the vicious soldiers who had invaded his home and took him captive.

Ruefully, Splinter recalled those bitter moments. He had given his sons permission to burn off their relentless energy above, and he was looking forward to a quiet night of solitude, and reflection. He had just finished lighting the last of his beloved candles, brewed a cup of tea, and had taken refuge in the unusual quiet. Oh, he loved his sons, there was no doubt. He relished these brief times of peace. He had sank back into the comfort of his arm chair, when he heard a footfall. He had bolted out of the chair as if shot by a canon, and landed in defensive position, the walking stick raised, and his fur standing on end. Pausing, he tilted his ears forward, listening and waiting. He could hear the sounds of several feet treading in near silence through the dark tunnels that concealed the Lair. Splinter turned off the lights, and silently made his way to the entrance of the Lair, taking care to mask the sounds of his paws on the bricks.

He had lived long enough in this place to know the difference between the footsteps of a human and those of his sons. The Lair itself spiraled off into the concealing darkness, and could only be reached by navigating the endless quagmire of tunnels. Even if a human were to stray into the sewer itself, there was no way one-let alone this many could accidently wonder down here by mistake. Splinter's kidnapping had been as swift as it was brutal. Had it been skill alone, Splinter would have never been caught. In the end, though, it was useless. No ninjitsu could quell the flood of those black-hooded invaders, as they stormed into his home, surrounded him, beat him senseless, and then dragged him, bleeding and stunned, through the tunnels, up through the manhole. Splinter had doled out his own punishment, pummeling and swirling in the feverish attempt to stay free. He did not relish that several of these young ones would nurse bruised and broken bones. The odds were too cruel for it to matter, now. In the end, it wasn't skill, but simply being outnumbered, and violently subdue. He vaguely remembered another blow to the head, as he crumbled, and being tossed into the back of a van. The world swam, the engine roared, and his awareness flickered in and out of awareness, between the dull ache and the growing horror of what had all transpired. He had been violently kidnapped, torn away from his beloved sons, and the only thing he would leave would be his blood staining his old chair, and his broken walking stick. His heart broke anew when he pondered what his beloved sons, their bewildered anguish at finding their one refuge torn open, and him gone.

He remembered the creaking of the van wheels, being dumped into the floor, and kicked into submission. He had curled around his cracked ribs, his aging body screaming in protest as he shut his eyes and focused on maintaining his silence. He knew full well the brutality that the human world would inflict on those who were freaks of nature. Calling on every scrap of his animal senses, he tensed in his sprawl on the floor and searched desperately for an opening, or a chance to bolt free. Splinter forced himself to remain still, knowing that this ride would eventually have to end, and that they would have to take him out.

Shivering again, Splinter resigned himself to waiting, keeping his eyes shut and listening to the muttered whispers around him. The van was literally packed, and Splinter was surrounded and unable to maneuver, or even rise from the floor without brushing against them.

Focusing on his breathing, Splinter ignored the ache in his battered side, and calmed. He knew full well the ugliness of the human world in the streets, and the violence. But these weren't common criminals. They were skilled ninjas, they knew where he was, and during their decimation of his home, he heard them speak the names of his sons.

Splinter felt his heart quell with terror. Who ever had him, _knew._ All the years that he had spent constructing the frail, concealing fortress and prison of his love, all those years that his poor children had been denied light and condemned to live like the damned in the dark, to prevent such a thing was now useless.

Dread clawed at his soul, and he shuddered at the realization. The van abruptly squealed to a halt, and Splinter tensed when he felt the pressure of knee caps on his spine, the savage grips on his wrists as his arms were yanked forward and shackled by the chains. He snarled at the cold metal collar suddenly being locked over his neck, at the jab of a blade dancing over his quaking throat and bloodying his fur again.

He was hauled to his feet, and dragged forward by too many hands to fight off. He was choked and beaten before he could even shuffle forward a step on his own. They hauled him out of the van, heedless of his scuffling paws, heedless of the bloodied trail that trickled from the van to the concrete.

He instinctively flattened his ears against the high whine of the halogen lights that dangled from the soaring ceiling. The light was nearly blinding as his captors marched him past the manmade corridors of stuff piled to the ceiling. Splinter squinted in dismay. They were in an enormous, abandoned warehouse, in the part of the city long isolated by poverty, despair,and violence. The whole place lay before him, wide and disgusting as an unhealed wound. He heard the gleeful cackle, the weight of their eyes as he was turned forward and slammed into the chain link fence. He was unresisting as they twisted his arms upward, hoisted him so high that his claws could barely scrape concrete, and shackled him.

He warily watched the shifting shadows, the flicker of the lights off of those men, as they snickered and leered or gaped at him. He waited for them to slit his throat, beat him to death, anything besides watch him helplessly dangle and tremble from the strain.

He didn't have to wait long.

He could sense the change in the youths around him before he could locate the source. They went from lounging like overfed cats into rising and forming orderly lines, rigid and tense and waiting for something. Splinter squinted, puzzled as they arranged all fell wordlessly in arrangement, as if awaiting a visit from a god. The silence was as oppressive as an oncoming storm. Splinter swallowed back the bile, weary at the knowledge that his situation was getting much, much worse.

His sons. What was he to do about his sons?


	30. Leo:Haunted

Leo's point of view:

The silence of the field was erupted by my flip into the air, my landing back to the earth, and then my bolting back to the farm house. From behind, a bird exploded into the air, and squawked indignantly at my interruption. I nearly flew back to the farmhouse, my feet pounding hard on the ancient wooden steps, the screen door groaning in protest as I nearly wrenched the thing off the hinges.

_My brothers. I need to get to my brothers._

It was sheer instinct and nothing else that propelled me up the steps, past the homey sitting room, through the hall. I nearly skidded to a halt and ignored the weave of the rug bundled up around my ankles.

The kitchen. I could smell the nice aroma of bread baking, home-made stew simmering on the aging stove, the clank of the spoon as April stirred. Donny was in the corner, shell facing me, as he carefully sliced a carrot into a neat pile.

I shattered the peaceful moment when I nearly sobbed Donny's name. Don whirled around to see me trembling.

"Leo!" April's startled yelp made me flinch.

Don heard the small questioning sound that April made as he set down the paring knife, worriedly. Don slid her a warning shake of his head as he carefully ventured forward, palms raised.

"Leo? What's wrong?" Don gently queried, with a wary eye ridge, as I pivoted sharply in his direction.

"Don." I met his eyes in an unspoken plea for understanding. "This is going to sound insane, but I ….I saw Splinter."

I breathed, steadied myself, fingers curling instinctively over the wood of the table between us. Were my nerves that shot to hell? Was I really, finally crumbling under all this weight and uncertainty? It couldn't be, but how-

The silence in the kitchen was overwhelming, as Don tilted his head, eying me like I was some wayward psychiatric patient. Exchanging a glance with April, he gave her a soft smile, and a shrug in reassurance.

"I'll go check on Raph." She whispered, as she quietly turned down the stove and exited the kitchen with far more haste than the situation required.

Don waited until her footsteps faded, before turning back to me. I noted with irritation the way that he had worked his facial expression into detached, gentle tolerance. It was the same look I had seen him get when he comforted Mikey from a bad nightmare.

"You saw Splinter." Don kept his voice carefully neutral. He wasn't asking a question. He was assessing just how far on the insanity scale I had slid. Maybe he was worried about how he would handle two brothers out of commission.

"Leo, we've all been going through hell and back lately. Are you sure the stress isn't getting to you?"

It was insane. I knew it sounded absolutely crazy, but I also knew that what I had experienced had been both real and the only scrap of hope of even knowing Splinter was alive. It wasn't much, but I'd take it.

"Donny, I know what I saw! I'm not crazy!" I couldn't stop the hysterical thread in my voice. I was nearly screaming, I knew it. My voice was too loud, everything was so loud and Splinter was chained and dying and I couldn't-

"Leo!" Don said my name as sharp as a stab wound as I felt his arm grip my sweating hand. Warily glancing at the ceiling, probably worried about disturbing Raph, he wrapped his other arm around my shell and nearly dragged me back out to the porch.

His face was hard, so brittle and sad, as he found the closest chair and gently shoved me into it. Eying me again, he whispered, "Sit down, Leo. I'll be right back, okay?"

I heard the bang of the screen door, his footsteps, and I was left alone in the failing light and the chirp of crickets. I couldn't stop shaking.

Donny returned a few minutes later, and he eased the glass of ice water between my fingers. He grabbed the chair beside me and scooted it until we were only a few feet apart.

"Are you alright, Leo?" Don's question was worried and coaxing, as if he were trying to comfort a scared child.

"Donny, I'm not crazy."

He narrowed his eyes as he sat back, his fingers clawing into the old wooden arm rests of the chair.

I saw his tears as he suddenly twisted towards me. "Leo….." His voice was rigid, almost breaking as he continued in that harsh whisper.

"Leo, I see him, too." He whispered as he scrubbed away more tears. 

I was too stunned to reply as he hitched his shoulders, helplessly. "I see him in my nightmares."

I wrenched away from the hand on my shoulder, and the glass slid from my hand. Plastic clunked as ice cubes skittered away. I ignored the wet pooling around my toes.

"Donny, this wasn't a dream. I _saw him."_

Don very calmly lifted his feet and pushed the chair away from the puddle.

I heard a heavy, uncertain breath as he rearranged himself, and sat back down. "Leo." His voice was taut, as he shook his head, bewildered. Closing his eyes, he breathed out, choked, "You saw Master Splinter chained to a fence and bleeding. And right before your vision ended, he called your name, didn't he? I saw him, too."

I stared at him, shock and hope both coiling in my gut with equal propensity. "You did? Don, how is this possible?"

Don shrugged, uncertainly. "Leo, we may have the ability to speak and think like humans, but it doesn't change the fact that biologically, we're still turtles, and Master Splinter is still a rat. Maybe on some visceral level, we retain the basic instincts and abilities that animals have and humans don't. All we really know at this point is that you and I have gotten the same vision of Splinter. I'm not sure if it's a message, a clue, or some sort of divine intervention, and I don't think it matters. The question now is how are we going to find Splinter and how are we going to rescue him? Leo, what are we going to do?"

His plea tore at my soul as I felt the bitterly familiar weight of making choices that my brothers couldn't, and the overwhelming, crippling fear that I was making the wrong choices.

"I want to talk with all of you, April included, before we make any plans. We'll go from there."

A/N: Sorry for the filler, the next chapter is coming in a few days.


	31. Leonardo: Dodging

**VIGIL: The Confrontation:**

April knew that Splinter's loss, although unspoken, lingered like a specter at the edge of everything. True, she wasn't that close to the kindly old rat as the Turtles, but it tore at her soul to think of him being at the Shredder's mercy. And after seeing what had been done to Raphael, nearly beaten to death and thrown off a roof, she secretly resigned herself to either finding Splinter's dead body, or nothing.

She honestly believed that Splinter had been murdered, the specifics of his ending unknowable, and any answers, only speculation. The Turtles would have nothing but uncertainty and only the memories to take brutal solace.

To a lesser degree, her own life had been ripped apart as well. She no longer had a home. She had literally ran for her life, without any word to anybody. She didn't know if she had been reported missing or dead. For now, they were safe in the quiet solitude of the old farm house, but her funds were running low, and she couldn't hide forever. Though she silently fretted about it, she never voiced any of this to the Turtles. If bad came to worse, she could get a job, perhaps in one of the small towns around the woods and stay. She could go back to the city, or leave forever. It would be tough, but she could resume her life again. The Turtles, however, had their own options cruelly limited. They weren't human. They couldn't simply stroll into a new home, or even appear openly without risking their lives. What would happen to them?

She swallowed hard as she quietly stirred more veggies into the stew. The Turtles may be different, unlikely, and not even of her own species. But they had saved her life, and the lives of others, and more than that, they were now family. And families stuck together. Whatever happened, however this ended, they were in this together.

For once, April felt at ease with a decision.

She was startled out of her musings by Leo's sudden, pensive appearance in the small kitchen. One of the things she could never get used to was the Turtles' irritating ability to literally vanish and pop out of nowhere. It always scared the hell out of her. Mikey seemed to get a kick out of startling her at random, and only stopped after she had hit him in the mouth with the business end of the broom. Needless to say, a mouth full of dirty straw, and a tongue lashing from an irate human woman put a stop to the antics. In general, the other three were much more courteous. Raphael always announced his presence by his angry stomp or his grumbling, Donny would quietly acknowledge her, and Leo would always greet her.

Until now.

Leo's lip twisted in his teeth as he apologetically backed away. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."

April shrugged as she turned back to the soup with a smile. "It's alright, Leo. Everything okay?"

Leo shook his head, uneasily. "I'm sorry to interrupt your cooking, April, but I need to talk to you." He emphasized his point by pulling out both kitchen chairs. He gestured towards the one nearest her, as he folded his arms, waiting.

Worried, now, April turned down the stove, and slid into the chair.

Leo silently glided into the chair across from her, as he lowered his head. Uneasily, April ventured, "Leo, what is it? Is Raph okay?"

"Raph is fine." Leo said bluntly. "And this isn't about Raph, anyway. It's about Splinter. He's alive."

Leo narrowed his eyes, as he considered her reaction to the announcement. April carefully concealed her dismay with a careful show of accepting serenity and gentle disbelief.

"Leo, I know Splinter's….absence has been hard on all of you, but you may have to face the fact that Splinter may be-"

"He's alive, April." Leo's certainty made her heart ache. Had it come to this? Clinging to a child's faith, only to be lost like everything else?

"How do you know that, Leo?"

Leo scowled at the question with uncharacteristic impatience.

April stared at Leo's resolve, set as concrete, and equally unmovable. Great. As if reading her skeptism, Leo shook his head. "Never _mind how_ I know, April. It's enough that I _do."_

She gave him her a kind, forced smile. "I..hope so, Leo. I truly hope so."

He nodded as he gently lay a hand over her wrist. "April, I can't say thank you enough for all that you have done for us. I also can't apologize enough for all that you've lost on account of us. There's no way that we can ever repay you, but please know that I consider you as much a family member as Master Splinter or the rest of my brothers."

His eyes were storm dark with agony as he forced himself to continue. "I also know that as long as you are with us, your life is at risk. And that is not something that I can continue to allow."

April tensed, her eyes narrowing to glittering emeralds. Her questions and inexplicable anger were both halted and strengthened by Leo's eyes suddenly growing wet.

"And that's why you need to leave." Leo whispered. Leo felt her bones under his fingers arch as she snatched her hand away.

April stared at him, as the loaded silence swelled and festered, until she quietly snarled, "What did you just ask me to do, Leo?"

Leo's face contorted., "April, they burned down your house, kidnapped Splinter,and nearly killed a member of my family!"

"_Our family."_ April ground out.

Leo flinched when she shot from her chair, so fast that it clattered to the floor. She ignored it as she stormed over to his side.

"_Our _family, you even listening to yourself?" Her voice was so shrill and sharp that he winced.

"Do you recall how we first met, Leo? I was attacked by the Foot, and I would have been dead if Raph hadn't stopped them. He saved my life that night, Leo. I know damn well what the Foot can do."

Leo sighed, and leaned back, as he stared up at her with those pleading eyes. "Then you know why I'm asking you to leave."

She glared at him, and seethed, "Because you want to keep me safe, or because I'm a liability?"

She winced when she saw Leo's tears. "I'm trying to _save _you. Just like I would any other member of my family. I'm _trying!"_

Leo exhaled, and scrubbed at his eyes, as he lay his palms on the table as if to keep upright. Raggedly, he shook his head.

"You don't understand. You're _human._" He jabbed his plastron with his thumb. "We're _not._"

He breathed out, and raised those ravaged eyes to hers, falling silent.

April hitched her shoulders, helplessly. "Leo, I can't exactly change that. I can't change the fact that you're all Turtles and that I'm not. I can't change what was done to Raph, or the reaction the world would have if they knew you existed."

Bitterly, Leo shook his head. "_I _ know the reaction, April. Even you fainted when you first met us."

"So, _that's_ the issue? That I'm a threat because I'm human? You sure as heck didn't feel that way when you came to my apartment after _your_ home was trashed, or when you needed a place to hide."

Leo's tremble rippled through him like a shot gun blast. "_We_,' he spat, "never intended to be found at all. Raph was the one who disobeyed Splinter's orders and dragged you down to the Lair. Not _us."_

The hurt twisted April's features before she smoothed the anguish over in a serene, shaking calm. "So, in other words, it would have been _easier_ for Raphael to leave me to die. Just like it would have been _easier_ on me to leave him to die, which I guess would make this whole thing easier on _you."_

The words seared Leo's soul like acid, as he could only stare at her, mouth open, shaking, nearly sickened by the tidal wave of things he could not name. April blanched in horror at the words that lingered between them, bright and sudden as a lightning bolt.

Leo saw her hand fly to her mouth and curl over her lips as if she intended to snatch the cruel words back.

"Leo…" April muttered weakly, as she gestured helplessly. "I'm sorry…." It was a breathed whisper.

Leo crumbled minutely, as he forced himself to give her an unconvincing smile of forgiveness. "April, if anything, I owe you an apology. You're a member of this family and you have the right to decide what role you'll play. Please forgive me for overstepping those bounds. It will not happen -"

His eyes nearly flooded as he abruptly rose. "I need to go check on Raph. Please excuse me."

He was gone before she could see him fracture completely.


	32. Prelude

A Prelude.

Leo had done a remarkable job in keeping the unpleasant exchange between himself and April from affecting the brooding fight between him and his brothers. Now that Raphael had regained some sort of mobility, he was no longer content to stay bed-ridden and crippled. Indeed, it was a constant battle to force Raphael to pace himself. And ever since that disturbing vision of Splinter, Leo felt his father's absence coiling over his soul like a tightening noose. The nightmare of Splinter, chained and helpless and bleeding was a constant torture.

And Donny had the same vision, or nightmare. Leo didn't know what the hell to think of that. He hadn't had time to flesh out anything concrete with Donny. Hopefully, Donny would at least keep it between them for the moment. Leo didn't know what else to do. Leo had honestly hoped to have a calm, rational discussion with his brothers to decide some sort of plan of action. His best intentions were shredded to pieces, along with his rapidly eroding patience. Leo was honestly not sure how much more of Raph's bickering he could handle at the moment, and he hated it.

"So that's the plan from our great leader. Sit here on our butts and leave Splinter to die." Raph snarled. Leo rolled his eyes heavenward with the air of a martyr beseeching patience.

"No, Raph. That is _not_ what I said." Leo breathed out, forcing himself to calm before quietly resuming the theme of the argument that had gone on for far too long. "We can't just go waltzing back to the city, Raph. We don't have a home, we don't know where to start looking."

Donny flinched at that, and opened his mouth to speak. Leo hastily interrupted, "Not now, Don. _Please."_

Donny gave him a long stare, and mercifully nodded. Leo gave him a grateful look, before turning back to Raph.

Leo sighed, "Raph, I'm sorry. I truly am. But we're not in any condition to take on the Foot."

"You mean _I'm_ not in condition." Raph snapped. "Come out and say it, Leo. I'm the reason why we ain't doin' anything about Splinter."

Raph grunted as he slowly hoisted himself upright. All three of his siblings instinctively lurched forward to assist. Raph recoiled, as he swatted their hands away.

"Quit motherin' me, damn it! I'm alright!" Raphael was heaving with the effort it took to rise, and he leaned against the wall, shutting his eyes and breathing far too hard.

Donny looked pained as he held his hands up in surrender. Leo hovered helplessly as Raph winced in pain and swallowed back a grunt.

Shifting, Raph angrily kicked the blankets away. "I'm alright." He hissed out between those clenched breaths.

Mikey eyed him worriedly, but wisely refrained from commenting. Leo sighed and shook his head, bitterly. Donny attempted to interrupt the brewing storm with his usual diplomacy and logic.

"It's not _just_ that, Raph. As much as I hate to admit it, Leo has a very valid point. We _don't_ know where Splinter is, specifically, and we can't just go strolling around the city."

"We can't just sit here and do nothin'. Splinter's out there!" Raphael spat.

Mikey hastily piped up, "Guys, why don't we just take a chill pill and relax? Bitching at each other isn't really getting us anywhere."

They had all fallen into that troubled, helpless silence that Mikey had come to hate.

Donny pinched the bridge of his beak to fight both the ache of growing frustration, and out of habit when dealing with sibling squabbles. The heated argument had fractured into a war, and all four of them had been sucked into it. At his side, Mikey slumped, pouting. Raphael was muttering under his breath and glaring at the wall like he wanted to punch it. And Leo was pacing like a very pissed off cat, trying and failing to rail in his anger.

Donny had exchanged a few snipes with all of them, and after that, had withdrawn with a shake of his head. He hated petty arguing, and considered it beneath him. He had retreated to the corner, and sat, waiting for everybody to calm down and for a consensus to be reached.

"Why can't April just go back and see if she can find something out? She's human." Mikey brightly suggested.

Raphael snorted, "And how is she gonna do that, Mikey? Just go around asking about a giant rat? Where the hell is she gonna sleep? They trashed her place, remember?"

"If _we_ lose to them, what is April going to do? I'm not sending an unarmed woman to be killed, Mikey. That's not an option." Leo said quietly.

"But we have to do something." Mikey whispered, pleadingly.

"Yeah, but _what?_ We don't even know that he's alive!_"_ Raph snarled.

"Master Splinter _is_ alive." Don said quietly, as he ignored Leo's sudden flinch and glare.

Raphael wrenched himself around as much as he could to stare at Donny. Mikey gently put a hand on Raph's good shoulder. "Take it easy, bro."

Raph hissed in annoyance, but didn't shrug Mikey off. Turning to Leo and Donny, Mikey tilted his head.

"How do you know?"

"Donny, I don't think that now is the time to-" Leo's hasty interruption was severed by Don's quiet certain answer.

"Leo, we need to tell them. Why on earth would you want to keep it from them?"

Leo grit his teeth. "And _what_ exactly are we keeping from them, Don? Maybe you can explain it. I _can't._ Hell, I don't even know if it was real."

"If _what _is real?" Leo was startled at the sudden, sharp question from Mikey.

Eyes narrowing with dangerous awareness, Raphael's puzzled scowl deepened. "If this is about Master Splinter, you don't have the right to keep it from me, Leo."

"I'm not _keeping_ anything from you!" Leo flung his hands out, helplessly. "It's not that at all! I just-"

He knotted his hands into fists and drove them deep into his sides, before he spun on his heel. In tears, he looked at Donny, and whispered, "Tell them, Don. _Please."_

He fled the room before his bewildered brothers could even reply.

(Meanwhile, in Raph's room-)

"I don't know if it was a dream, or a message. We definitely need more to go by than just the vague mental image that Leo and I apparently saw. It could be coincidence, or it might actually be that Splinter somehow communicated with us. I don't know anything else beyond what I've already told you. I have nothing to offer beyond speculation at this point. I'm sorry."

Donny shrugged apologetically, as he gave Mikey and Raph the most possible explanation to the most impossible scenario. He had done his best to fill in the silence left by Leo's sudden disappearance. Glancing at the door, Donny made a mental note to track Leo down later and see what the reason was behind his weird behavior. He had briefly debated going after Leo, but his siblings would not let him leave the room without explaining their older brother's cryptic remarks. Don also thought it best to give Leo some time alone to sort out whatever was consuming him so much.

Mikey was oddly troubled and silent.

Raph just scowled. "So, let me get this straight. You and Fearless both had the same dream about Splinter being chained to a fence somewhere, but you don't know what to do about it? That's easy. We find Splinter."

"Raph, it's not that easy. We can't just risk our lives on something as flimsy as Leo and I having the same thought about Splinter. And why would Splinter just send that sort of message to me and Leo, and not you two?"

Raph snorted. "Probably because me and Mikey don't spend hours in the dojo tryin' to connect with the cosmos. You know Leo and you are the best at meditating. And Mikey's brain probably ain't equipped to deal with that or something."

They both ignored Mikey's indignant squawk.

Donny sighed. "Be that as it may, Raph. We can't just go back. Not without a location, or even a starting place."

"_We_ do have a starting place. Maybe not much, but it's more than what we had before." Mikey gave them both a bright smile.

"Why can't you and Fearless try to reach Master Splinter? Ever think of that?" Raphael groused, as he shifted. "That way, if you do somehow talk with him, you know he was trying to reach us. Come on, Don. It's not as if we have anything to lose. And I'll be damned if I sit here on my ass while he's out there."

"But what is it that we're trying, exactly, Raph? Leo and I sending happy thoughts to the universe in hopes of an answer? Mentally telephoning Master Splinter? What?"

Raph shook his head with a bitter smirk. "Go surprise the hell out of Fearless, Don. Tell him that I want to try meditating."

Raph's viewpoint:

When there's only four of your kind in the world, and those four are your brothers, it can warp your head. It makes you think of weird things, like what in the hell happens if one of you dies, or one of you gets injured, and how helpless you really are. In our case, we weren't just blood relatives. We were our own fortress against the outside, our own safe little world against everything else. So, when anything happened to one of us, it wasn't just a brother being injured, it was part of our world being broken. I know it's a deep thought, coming from me. I'm not known for my dazzling intellect or brains. But when you have nothing but empty hours to fill, staring at the ceiling gets boring, and the four walls become so familiar you memorize everything from the dents in the woodwork to the nasty shade of pink of the faded wall paper.

I had learned several boring, useless things during the time I was laid up and waiting to heal up. Stupid things, like how the evening shadows would cling gold to the ceiling, or that the damn birds would be twittering at dawn like clockwork every day. I learned that I truly hated the light purple comforter covered in violets and the Pepto-Bismol pink of the quilt I was draped in. I learned a whole new level of appreciation for my brothers when they changed out my sheets or held a cup of water to my lips, or helped me sit up. I learned a hell of a lot about April, how tough and patient and good she was to all of us, but especially to me. She spent a lot of time listening to me bitch, and patiently nodding and calling me "big guy." Hell, I liked it, even if it was embarrassing. We had good chats. She knew about the first time I had gotten drunk, my fear of spiders, and how damn worried I was about Splinter. I learned how much she hated high heels, her favorite color was red, and how she hated "chick flicks." Heh. Her and me both on that one.

. I spent a lot of time thinking just how damn good it would feel to gut each one of the bastards who beat me with my sais, and used that rage to force my quaking limbs to start working harder. April and Mikey had been kind enough to nail a few planks of wood to the wall, and scribble a few targets for me to practice my aim. My good arm-the one that I hadn't landed on- was sore from the hours I spent sending my blades into splintering the wood, but it wasn't too long before my aim was as good as it was before my bashing through a few floors. My battered side was still stiff and sore. It was hell working those muscles into movement, and there were several times when I would actually tear up from the pain, when I was alone. The bruises had faded to dull shades of darker green, and aside from the new scars on my shell and the rest of me, I started looking like the old, wonderful Raphael.

I know that I've spent a lot of time bitching about being laid up, so I guess now is the time I fill you in on a bright spot, for once. I started walking again.

Yep, ya heard me, I stood up on my own two feet, set them on the ground, and walked. First, a few tottering steps, and only after Don and Leo practically hauled me across the floor and dumped me back down when I nearly fell, dizzy and sick and sweating from exhaustion after a few lurches. I spent that night doped up on strong pain killers and soaking my sore muscles in ice. The next morning, I was almost too stiff to move, it hurt so damn much. Donny spent a lot of time lecturing me about not "overdoing it, and taking it easy." At that point, it didn't matter. I was so sore and hurting that I spent that day in bed, glaring at the wall and letting Brainiac bitch at me until he was blue in the face. Thank God I held in the blubbering until he left me alone, and then, I clutched my scarred arms to my plastron and sobbed like a whipped little kid until I was left heaving and choking on tears and snot. I was in agony, I'll admit it. I suffered through it, I toughed it out, and, with Leo on one side, Don on the other, and Mikey carefully gripping my shell from the back, I went outside for the first time since they dragged my unconscious, bleeding carcass up those steps after my beating.

And finally, a bit about the absent member of our family….Master Splinter. I know that it seems like we may have forgotten Master Splinter. Hell, no, nothing could be further from the truth. If the Foot could do this to me, I had several nightmares of what could have happened to our father. I hated his not being there. I hated that my brothers were stuck here in the middle of nowhere, waiting for me to heal up, and so damn torn as to what to _do. _

Splinter may not have been there physically, but he was never far from my thoughts, even if I never said anything to my brothers. They were all walking through enough hell as it was. But, it was impossible to ignore Splinter being gone. Hell, we didn't even know if he was alive, how we would find him, where to start looking.

So when Donny had given me that weird little scrap of hope, however strange or stupid it may have been, it was great to go from having absolutely nothing to _something._ Don't ask me how in the hell I came up with the idea of meditating, or what good I thought it would do. All I knew at the time is that it was something that we could all do, and, given my limited brain power, it was the most sensible thing we had to reach Splinter.

I remember that after I had made my brilliant little suggestion, that Donny had just stared me as if I had sprouted a second head. Sighing, he rose with a resigned shrug, and said, "I'll get Leo. We have nothing to lose, do we?" He gave me that crooked smile before trooping downstairs.


	33. Leo: Brutally Honest

Leo's viewpoint:

How many more tears was I expected to hold back? Didn't my brothers understand that I would have moved heaven and earth to get return our father? Didn't they understand the terror I had of losing yet another family member? It was hell, grappling with those thoughts. It was becoming a familiar hell, one that I would visit and revisit in those anguished, helpless circles, oscillating between the rock and the hard place and finding no answers in either one.

Our father's absence was gnawing at our souls. Unseen, but ever missed, Master Splinter became the specter that lingered in our thoughts, the healing balm for wounds that had no other remedy.

I had maintained the pathetic remnants of my fracturing self-control long enough to keep from collapsing. I could not stop my tears completely, but I was able to muster enough strength to give Don permission to disclose my revelation of Master Splinter. In all honesty, I had every intention of staying in that sick room, of not leaving my brothers to deal with yet another one of my hasty, bewildering retreats. I knew that the confusion and the fear and the chaotic mess I had left behind would get Raph even more pissed off and harder to soothe. I knew that I had left Donny to be subjected to the battering ram of Mikey's questions, of April's pointed inquiries, and I almost felt guilty enough to turn around.

Almost. I know, I was a bastard for doing this. For retreating, for crumbling, for a thousand other failures that I could recite and rehearse over and over and over again.

I couldn't turn around and face my brothers again. I couldn't face April's searing anger, any of it.

I Not when I was this choked, trapped and broken. Not when our father was out there, bleeding and chained to a fence like an animal. That thought made my blood boil, and then run cold. It made me want to weep, and kill those responsible for doing this to my family. I could understand why Raph was so pissed off at being helpless. I understood the frustration, the anguish that we all had. I just wish that I was brave enough, or honest enough to admit that out loud, and not give a damn about the reaction.

_"If this is about Master Splinter, you don't have the right to keep it from me, Leo."_

_"I'm not __keeping__ anything from you, Raph! I'm not-"_

I was falling apart. I was dissolving like a lump of sugar in hot water, and when my brothers needed me the most, I ran like hell to bawl in the woods. Pathetic. I was so pathetic.

My thoughts were interrupted by the brittle, sharp snap of a twig from somewhere behind. Instinctively, my hands flew towards my katanas, and I whirled around, only to come face to face with Donny. I heard the small, apologetic sound as he raised appeasing palms and stepped backwards.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you." He said, softly, as I sheaved my swords with another sigh and a shake of my head.

"I'm the one who should be apologizing. I shouldn't have left you alone to explain about Master Splinter." I countered.

"Don't worry about it, Leo. I don't think that sort of thing can be explained, Leo. And, honestly, the explanation doesn't matter at this point."

I looked at him, scowling. "Why doesn't it matter? Donny, how-"

"Leo." Donny silenced me with both that hard, quiet way he said my name, and the steadying hand on my arm. "I didn't come out here to discuss Splinter. I came here to check on _you."_

"Donny, we have more important things to worry about. I-"

"Leo, you left. And even more alarming, at least to me, you left in _tears._ That's not like you. You really haven't been yourself since Raph got injured, and you're starting to worry me. Now, what's going on?" I couldn't stop the flinch of shame, even as Donny stared at me with that gentle understanding that was harder to bear than any insult.

I shrugged my shoulder out of his grasp, and spun to glare hard at a tree stump. "I'm fine."

Donny merely raised a skeptical eyebrow, but mercifully allowed my foolish insistence to pass without comment. Normally, Donny would retreated, and allow me or any other of his pissed off siblings a bit of time and distance to get their thoughts straight. He wouldn't have lingered on like this.

He stared at me with those narrowed eyes, before sighing. "If you're not going to tell me what is wrong, can you at least give me a rough estimate of how long it will take for you to work through this funk?"

The sharp question was sudden, weird, and painful. Donny rarely, if ever snapped at anybody, and when he did, it was only out of great need. Swallowing back the bile, the venom, the sheer weight of everything I didn't feel like addressing, I forced myself to turn around and face him.

"I'm sorry, Donny. I don't mean to be an asshole, and I'm not trying to be rude. I left the farmhouse because I really needed some time to piece myself back together before I said or did something that I couldn't' take back. I'm sorry that I'm not 'with it.' I'm sorry that I'm scared as hell, and torn up over Raph and Splinter. I'm really sorry that it's getting to me, and I'm acting weird. Now, you can either give me a bit of time so I can get my head on straight, or you can bitch at me, but make up your mind, or piss off."

Author's Note: Sorry that this is short. I will be updating everything after Thanksgiving.


	34. Leonardo and Splinter: Distance

_Leo's viewpoint…._

"I'm sorry, Donny. I don't mean to be an asshole, and I'm not trying to be rude. I left the farmhouse because I really needed some time to piece myself back together before I said or did something that I couldn't' take back. I'm sorry that I'm not 'with it.' I'm sorry that I'm scared as hell, and torn up over Raph and Splinter. I'm really sorry that it's getting to me, and I'm acting weird. Now, you can either give me a bit of time so I can get my head on straight, or you can bitch at me, but make up your mind, or piss off."

I winced, instantly stricken and horrified at what had just spewed out of my mouth. What in the hell was wrong with me? Guilt seared hot and then came to curl in my gut so quickly it nearly made me sick.

"I don't know why I said that." I choked out.

A gentle, sad sigh of acceptance, as Donny only shook his head and gave me that ever patient smile. It made me feel even torrent of guilt flooded over me just as the words burbled up from my now trembling jaw. The apology withered, somehow wedged in my throat as Donny accepted the cruelty without so much as a wince.

"Leo…it's alright. Just forget about it, okay?" Donny waved away my guilt like he would a swatted fly, even as I exhaled sharply, lay my shaking hands on my bent knees, and tried again.

"No, it isn't. I shouldn't have snapped at you."

"Leo…."Donny folded his arms and raised an eye ridge. "It's already been forgiven. This is just a drop in the bucket compared to all we're going through right now. This has affected us so much..it's amazing that any of us are intact. Don't be so hard on yourself."

Donny slid his eyes to the woods, and then back to mine." Never mind about that, any more, Leo. We need to focus of finding Splinter, not get sidetracked by petty squabbles. I think that whatever you saw, is as good a place to start as any. You were meditating when you saw him, right?"

I nodded, and his mouth quirked. "So was I. We finally have something to work with."

"Donny…_what_ exactly do we have to work with? How are we supposed to find Splinter, let alone contact him?"

Donny tilted his head with a wry, hopeful smirk. "Leo, we don't have to contact Splinter. Splinter contacted _us. _ I'm not going to quibble about the impossibility of it right now. Hell, look at _us._ If we can exist, why couldn't Splinter somehow send us a message? It's possible, Leo. That's all we really need to know right now. And, honestly, it's _all _we have to go by."

Donny gently pat my shoulder. "Just come back to the house when you're finished stewing, okay?" He paused to toss over his shoulder, "By the way, Raphael wanted to try meditating as a group."

He ignored my look of surprise and turned back towards the house.

I stared at the gloaming light outside, and thought of my father, my brothers, everybody that I loved, and how hard it had been.

My excruciating doubt clawed at my guts. I couldn't offer my brothers certainty. I couldn't offer them an answer. I couldn't offer them anything more than very frail chance that somehow, maybe, the stars would align right, that our bond was strong enough to bridge the time and distance between us and our father. I couldn't fail, but I had no real idea of how to succeed. How in the hell could I contact Splinter again? Did I need to scrape the depths of my soul, and dredge up everything again? Did I need to sit in silence until the echoes of my own thoughts and our increasing desperation manufactured a delusion of hearing Splinter's voice? Was what we saw actually our father, or just some sort of collective psychosis that we had somehow forged from our own tortured helplessness? I had heard that people without water for days sometimes drank sand, under the delusion that the sun shimmering over the desert was the ripple of water. Was this a mirage of some sort as well?

As the first one who made contact with Splinter, as the first one who had announced his apparition like a holy angel divulging heaven to the mortals, I was suddenly thrust into the odd role of attempting to lead my brothers through the dark uncertainty. What if we failed in reaching Splinter? What if I was wrong? Raphael would probably grouse about my overactive imagination, and Mikey would laugh and joke about me not having aspirations to be a phone psychic. And Donny would probably attempt to soothe my humiliation by gently worded deflections. And meanwhile, I'd be tortured with the image of our beloved father, helpless, and broken and possibly dying, with nothing but my fumbling attempts to save him. I had to try.

So, with that hopeless uncertainty, I ignored Raphael's unspoken sneer, and Mikey's questioning stare and attempted to recreate the same peace that made meditating with Splinter so easy. Donny, Mikey and Raphael were oddly quiet as I stooped to arrange the candles in a precise circle, so that their small flames would help us focus.

Splinter never meditated without candles, and I found the memory of their flicker soothing. Maybe this could help. It couldn't hurt. I felt like a fool as I finally rose from my task and turned to face my brothers. Mikey stared dubiously at the candles.

"Um, not to be rude, bro, but how is this supposed to help us find Splinter?" Mikey turned to me for an explanation.

"I'm not sure that it will." I answered, quietly.

From his corner, Raphael growled out, "What are we waitin' on? Christmas?"

He flung his arm out towards Mikey. "Help me up, will ya?"

It took a remarkable amount of self-control on my part to not run over, hook his arm around my neck and lower him to the floor.

Mikey gave me a small, tolerant smile, as he stooped to allow Raphael to drape his arm over his shoulders. We all ignored Raph's wince as he forced his legs to unfold, and bear his weight. Using Mikey as more of a counter balance than a crutch, he lurched across the floor, his feet shuffling, but his stride much stronger.

He halted with a grunt as Mikey carefully slid his arm free. Awkwardly, Raphael squatted, and finally sat down. Mikey languidly flopped down next to him, as Raph gave him a tap on the shoulder in silent gratitude.

Mikey grinned, and whispered from the side of his mouth, "Nothing to it, dude."

"So…." Mikey gestured towards the candles, "What are we supposed to do now?"

"We meditate." Raph snapped, as he twisted around in annoyance to face me, "Right, Fearless? If this ain't for nothing."

"We have nothing to lose." Donny said with a shrug as he lingered by the light switch. "Everybody ready?"

When I nodded, he flipped the switch and the room was engulfed in abysmal black save for the waning glow of the candles.

Beside me, I could hear my brothers shifting as they arranged themselves into the reflective pose, and the silence was only interrupted by the sound of our breathing.

"Everybody, close your eyes. And concentrate. Concentrate really hard."

In the darkness, Splinter cracked open his eyes with an effort and stared dully at the familiar world of a concrete floor, the high metal walls and only the solitary hum of the light bulb that burned in its cage high above.

The hours had languidly slid into days, but without a glimpse of the sun, he had no way of knowing if it were day or night. Splinter could not even tell how many days had passed since his brutal capture. There was nothing to mark the passage of time, except the occasional beating, and interrogation.

Splinter shivered inwardly at the memories of the torture. Human faces, twisted in rage, shouting at him, beating him, spitting out their questions that he would not answer, even at the cost of his own life. Through it all, his unrelenting instincts screamed in protest, and demanded that he flee, and hide like any other rat that was under such duress.

He twitched his paws helplessly. He couldn't even twist his wrists without either scraping the wounds raw or bleeding again. At first, the trickles of blood were welcome. He had hoped that the blood would lubricate the shackles enough to slide his wrists free. In one of his more desperate moments, he almost succumbed to the rat instinct of gnawing his paw off and free himself. He recoiled in horror and nearly snarled to discover that the chains were too short to allow him enough slack to bring his wrists to his mouth.

The hunger, the thirst, the pain..they were almost welcome distractions from the mind-numbing terror Splinter had for his sons. And, he knew from the last savage beating he had endured, that they had not yet been found. It was a bitter solace. He could not protect his sons with anything more than his silence, and he considered his life and his comfort to be a pathetically small price to pay in keeping them safe.

The silence was only broken by the occasional scrape of chain against the metal links of the fence he was shackled to. He groaned and sagged against the frail support of the fence, slumping into the dull torpor that offered a brief respite from his captivity. He had been chained to the fence for so long that the metal links had carved through both his robe and fur, leaving his back a mess of shredded cloth, and dried blood. The cuts across his back weren't deep, but having the metal embedded in his flesh could not be good in any way.

Aside from the occasional beating and interrogation, Splinter was left alone to rot and die. His gut ached from hunger, his tongue tasted strangely metallic, and his throat felt as if he had swallowed a desert's worth of sand.

He shut his eyes again, and turned his thoughts yet again inwards, taking refuge in the deep, deep love he had for his sons. Somehow, he could feel them close…..

_My sons…._


	35. Leo:Hope

Leo's viewpoint:

Normally, with meditation, we were accompanied by the constant echoing throb of sewer pipes, of the roar of traffic above our heads. Normally, Splinter would have laid our mats, and we'd sit in quiet ring around him, and wait for the collective stillness and peace to quietly envelop our thoughts. I know that such stillness and awareness was difficult for Raph and Mikey, especially. He hated sitting still for any amount of time, and he was often quite vocal about Master Splinter's expectations for us to meditate regularly.

But now, in Raph's improvised sick room, there was no mats, and most of all, no Splinter. April had very generously scrounged up some more quilts that we had all folded into cushions.

The room was quiet, except for the continual howl of the night wind, the scrape of tree branches against the bricks, and the collective sound of four brothers huddled together and attempting what seemed to be both ludicrous and impossible to boot.

Mikey was fidgeting, drumming his fingers against his knees, as Donny silently handed me the box of matches.

"Is this supposed to be some sort of mind-melding, like off of Star Trek or something?"

Mikey's snicker was only answered by Don's gentle nudge of reprove, and my withering glare. From his pallet, Raphael shifted and grunted in annoyance, "You have to have a mind to mind-meld, genius."

Donny sighed, and giving me a resigned shrug, turned to Mikey.

"We're not mind-melding, Mikey. We're meditating in the hopes that we can somehow find more information about Splinter." Donny patiently explained as he helped Raphael to move.

"And exactly how is this supposed to work?" Mikey raised an eye arch and turned to stare at me and Donny.

"If you are asking for a scientific explanation, the best I can offer is based on pure speculation. Biologically speaking, we're still animals, and on some visceral level, we may retain some basic, residual awareness or ability to sense things that humans don't. You know, like how geese fly in formation, or how herd animals collectively migrate? Nobody teaches them how to do that, it's just something that _they know._ Maybe this is something akin to it, but I honestly don't know."

Raphael winced as he forced himself forward a few inches. Turning to Mikey, he snapped, "Does it matter? Hell, Mikey, we don't know if it will work or not. All we know is that Donny and Leo had the same vision or dream or whatever it was. We can't exactly call Master Splinter for information, and this may be nothin', but it's all we have right now. Now, shut up, and let's get started already, eh?"

Mikey huffed, and turned to query Don. "Is there _any_ chance in hell of this working? I mean, we're not mind-readers, or anything."

Donny sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose in an effort to control his emotions. He always did that when he was either warding off a headache, or dealing with frustration.

" We don't need to be mind-readers. Leo and I _saw_ Splinter, Mikey. I know it's hard for you to believe. I get that, Mikey. I truly do. But, you're going to have to decide if Leo and I are insane, or if you can trust us enough to _at least_ try, please."

Mikey shrugged with a sigh, but at last folded his legs and settled himself on the mat. Closing his eyes, he muttered, "Let me know when you're ready. Poke me if I fall asleep."

So far, our attempt at group meditation was an abysmal failure. I was miserably embarrassed and uncertain as I ignored Mikey's impatience, Raph's glare, and Donny's rapidly fleeing tolerance.

Kneeling down, I sat the large white candle in the middle of the floor between the four of us. Striking the match, I lit the wick, and let the small flame linger long enough to arch high into the glow. Donny flipped off the light switch, and suddenly, the room was awash with darkness, except for the faint flicker of the candlelight.

"Leo, if you dragged us here for nothing…" Raph muttered, but let the words mercifully die unspoken.

"Now what, Fearless?"

"Everybody, close your eyes and concentrate. Concentrate really hard."

The encouragement sounded frail at best, and idiotic at worst. I closed my eyes, rested my elbows against my thighs, and tried to relax. Soon, the only noise in the room was the dull hiss of wind against the window, and the quiet sounds of our collective breaths.

A trickle.

A slither of thought, a fragment, then sensations that solidified and rippled through my mind like the movement of water when something rises from the depths. I struggled against the urge to force my focus into sharpening, and exhaled deeply for calm. It took every scrap of self-restraint to not attempt control. Master Splinter always taught us that inner peace only happened after accepting the emotions and thoughts as they were, and not attempting to wrestle them into submission. It took everything I had not to picture Splinter, but to allow the images to simply come.

I let my thoughts light like falling leaves, gently colliding, one upon the other, gradually growing stronger. At my side, I heard Mikey shift and then go still in concentration as the wan candle light flickered against the darkness of the room.

I heard Raphael grunt, either in frustration, or pain. His injuries were still capable of hurting him. Though he was seated on the floor like the rest of us, his injured limbs were cocooned by a small pile of pillows. I ignored his winces as he pulled himself upright and forced his bruised arms to curl against his thighs in the reflexive pose we all used for meditation.

Donny was silent, with his head bowed, and eyes closed. Like me, he was perfectly still, and even his breathing was calm and controlled.

The small flame danced on its wick, fading down to a last spark. The darkness was overwhelming, as Mikey twitched, and the flame dulled to only a small bit of light. I had no way of knowing if it were minutes or hours that passed in that room, as we sat in the hopeless dark. I heard the hitching breath and the wet snort of a sob from one of my brothers, and Raphael's disappointed snarl of "Now, what do we do?"

"We wait." Donny whispered back.

The wick had burned down to one vanishing point, a sad little glow in the darkness.

And then, the minute fire flickered from the smear of orange to an eerie, unnatural shade of blue, and flared upward.

I heard Raphael inhale sharply, and Mikey suddenly jabbed me. "Leo…look!"He breathed out in astonishment.

The small flame curled inward, and soared higher, dissolving into a vapid film as frail as starlight.

What happened next is still hard for me to describe, but it was a miracle, and divine intervention, and the grace of something much deeper, higher, and better than anything that any of us could accomplish on our own.

I felt Master Splinter's presence fall over me, warm, and familiar and steadying as an embrace, as the thin, waning light solidified into a thin, shadowy veneer of Master Splinter's form.

He was transparent, dreamlike, vapid as mist, but Master Splinter was real, and _here._

At my side, I heard Raph's quiet sob of Splinter's name, but Donny was too astonished to wipe away the tears that trickled down his face.

Splinter raised his arms, as if to enfold us, as his mouth curled into that warm, long-missed smile. He wasn't beaten, bloodied, chained, or wounded, as he gazed down on us with love.

"I am proud of you, my sons. Tonight, you have learned the final and greatest truth of the ninja. That ultimate mastery comes not from the body, but of the mind."

He paused to meet each of our eyes, as he continued, silencing our questions with a gentle, sad shake of his head.

" Together, there is nothing that you four cannot accomplish. Help each other. Draw on one remember the true force that binds you….the same that has brought me here tonight. That, which I gladly return with my final words. ."

He shut his eyes, trembling, and even though he was transparent, I could see the tears rising in his eyes.

"I love you all, my sons."

The flame suddenly died, and the room was once again engulfed in darkness. Master Splinter was gone.


	36. Splinter: Scraping Heaven

Scraping Heaven: Splinter

Splinter had known physical and mental anguish before this. Before his mutation, before he was a father, he could recall the hot, red terror of Yoshi's blood as the Shredder slew his master and flung the corpse at Splinter's paws. He could remember the blind, panicked instinct to scurry away into the dark, and the gnawing hunger and constant fear that a domesticated rat would feel after being cast out into the alleys of New York City.

He remembered the torpor of sensations, of living by instinct instead of thought, until the bewildering day that he had encountered that can of mutagen. Splinter could recall the moment when he held a piece of newspaper between his shaking paws and the strange markings became words that he could understand. He remembered, too, the searing transition from being an ordinary rat to being a father, how it felt to look at his children and love them so fiercely he'd happily give up everything he had to keep them safe. And, he remembered the brilliant joy when he realized that his sons loved him in return.

It was the same bittersweet solace he now took, as he slumped back against his shackles.

The intense mediation had left him trembling with exhaustion, but for the moment, the beloved faces of his sons seared like a brand in his rapidly failing thoughts. Splinter lingered there, in the twilight between longing and reality for as long as his frail spirit and his faltering mental state would allow. Even as the beloved images of his sons dribbled away like water, he clung to that moment with everything he had.

He mentally cradled the new memory, let it linger behind his slammed shut eyes, and let it transport him far away from being a prisoner. Exhaling a shaking breath, Splinter cobbled together the jumbled images.

Rather than the Lair, his sons seemed to be in a quiet room with white walls, a cheerful gingham curtain and a wooden floor. They were huddled together around the single glow of a candle that wanly flickered between them, and the only sound was the chatter of birds and the scrape of the wind through the enormous trees outside. Splinter could tell from this that his sons had not only left the Lair, but they had left the city _together._

Wherever they were now, they were together and they were safe. Splinter did not concern himself with how his sons had fled the city. It mattered little now.

Exhaling again, he lovingly recalled each of his sons. Michelangelo, normally so joyful, and expressive, had sat sagely with his hands folded with a concentration that rivaled Leonardo's. Any trace of his youthful antics had been replaced by a strange maturity that left Splinter proud and troubled at the same time.

Leonardo, his oldest son, had once been resolute and certain. Apparently, the separation and the loss had scarred Leonardo, because he was now slumped over with weariness and a surrender that made Splinter's heart ache. Leonardo seldom shed tears, and now, he had been openly weeping.

Donatello, once so serene and docile, had a troubled scowl and a hardness to his eyes that Splinter had never seen before.

And Raphael….Splinter could not stop the tears from trickling down his cheeks though he did not open his eyes. Raphael looked…broken. The left side of his face was covered with the dark smear of bruises, his left arm and foot were cradled in blankets, and his eyes were huge and shadowed with unspoken agony. He was covered in scars that Splinter had never seen before, a fierce scraping set of lines that seemed to go from his jaw to his hip, and all on the left side of his body. What in the world had happened to Raphael to inflict such wounds?

Splinter knew his sons had not been in the Lair when he had been kidnapped. He knew, from the repeated beatings and tortures of the Foot, that his sons had escaped their reach.

It seemed that when the last of the light finally dimmed, and went out, so did the last of his strength.

Normally after such a draining experience, he would have shuffled off to the comforting familiarity of a warm cup of tea, the soft refuge of his bed, or maybe a distracting chat with one of his sons. But now, he had nothing but the abysmal grey concrete, the shackles on his wrists, and the fence digging into his flesh.

His eyes slid dully to the concrete, to see the slant of evening sunlight sliding through the broken window. How many days had passed? He grimaced, but could not force his muddled thoughts to clear.

Aside from the occasional beating, the jeers, and the uncertainty, he was mostly ignored by the Foot recruits that occasionally walked by. On rare occasion, the Shredder would venture down, place his metal gauntlets to his throat, savor the trickle of blood and threaten Splinter with death. Splinter had not spoken a word since his capture, and he knew as yet another day slid by, his time was growing short.

Splinter did not know how his ending would come about. At first, he thought that they intended to kill him outright, particularly after he refused to answer any of the questions spat at him. He didn't even speak.

Aside from a dribble of water flung over his head to add to his torment, he had nothing to eat, or drink since he had been caught. Dully, Splinter wondered if they were cruel enough to simply leave his chained corpse to rot. He imagined that they would cut him down and dispose of his remains, as an extremely large rat in a tattered robe was likely to attract unwanted attention.

It didn't matter how his life ended now. His sons were safe.


	37. The End of Now

_Author's Note: I am sorry and grateful to report that I have both good news, and bad. The bad news is that this will be the final chapter for Vigil. I've honestly taken this story as far as I can write it, and I feel like I'm starting to rehash old plotlines instead of writing something original. However, I've also poured out too much heart and soul in writing this story to just leave it alone. I am in the process of starting the sequel right now, and I hope to have something up very soon. Thank you for all your support, and I am sorry for the abrupt change. God bless, have a good day._

Raphael's Point of View:

I stared at the empty space where Splinter's…ghost? Spirit? I don't know what the hell it was then, still don't know, and it doesn't matter. I watched as Splinter raised his paws in that gesture of farewell, flung his arms wide as if to hold us close, and then…he was gone. Just like the little flame of the candle that died away, Splinter flickered out of our sight, and vanished once again.

I was too torn up and bewildered to do much more than snort back the snot, and wipe away more damn tears. I may have sobbed out Splinter's name, I really can't remember. Don't need to. I remember looking at each of my brothers, and we were all blubbering like a bunch of little kids. Donny and Mikey were clutching each other, trying to hold themselves together, while Leo just shoved his palms to his eyes, silently crying, and desperately trying not to. I hate it when any of my brothers cry, of course. But it always tears my guts up to see Leo losing it. And God help me, I had seen my big brother fall apart more times in these last few days than I had in the normal life we had all left behind with our ruined home.

Not surprisingly, Mikey was the first one to pipe up. I watched as he smeared on another bright, false grin, before he looked at all of us and said, "So, guys….when are we going back?"

"Now!" I snapped as I forced myself up from the cushions, and kicked away a pillow, before I nearly toppled with a wince from the sudden, vicious coil of pain.

From the corner, I heard Don's motherly whining, about "taking it easy," Leo's griping about "calming down," and Mikey's yapping. I didn't bother turning around, or listening to any more lectures, or bitching. All we did was bitch, and if I didn't get out of that room, I would have punched a wall.

I hobbled out of the room, ignoring the sharp ache of my abused muscles, grateful that my anger was strong enough to override the instinct to curl up and howl. I guess my brothers were smart enough to know that I needed to be left alone, because I didn't hear any of them follow me. Thank God for that.

By then, my bad side was starting to cinch up tight, and I had to lean against the wall to finish lurching down the stairs. I ignored the way my knee cramped up, and nearly buckled beneath me with a grunt before I limped into the empty dining room, and flung myself down into the nearest available chair.

Wincing, I buried my face in my hands, trying to steady my breathing, trying to stop the wild, stupid urge to hijack the battered van, and drive back to the city. It would have been nothing but stupidity and suicide. I wasn't in any shape to drive, let alone fight. And, yes, it hurt like hell to admit to that.

After calming myself down enough to not do something dumb, I sighed, and yanked a chair closer. I gently eased my throbbing leg up to my lap, propped it up, and started rubbing the sore muscles down. Yeah, it hurt, but it was nothing compared to what I've already been through.

"Raph?" I flinched in surprise, and looked over my shoulder to see April. She was staring at me with that soft concern that pissed me off and made me grateful at the same time, a cup clutched in her fingers.

Setting it down on the table, she frowned, worriedly, as she looked at my leg. Thankfully, she bit back the mothering instinct, as she gestured towards the kitchen.

"I was making some tea. Do you want some?"

I shook my head, and muttered out a 'no, thanks', which she ignored, of course. She set a steaming cup in front of me, along with a spoon and the bowl of sugar, and sat down in front of me.

She stared at me for a long moment, until I finally snapped, "What?!"

She narrowed her eyes, and gave the ceiling a glance before turning back to me. "Is everything alright?" She asked the question in that sweetly aggravating voice, the same that Leo used when he didn't want to make a bad situation worse, and always failed at it.

"No, April. It's not."

Her mouth quirked, as she shook her head. "Do you want to talk about it? I'll listen."

Maybe it was the fact that I was about to explode, or the fact that she was a friend who gave a damn that made me spill out the whole thing. I told her everything, from Splinter's tortured, ghost-like appearance, my being pissed off about keeping my family shackled here, and the ongoing, stupid debate on what the hell we were going to do.

She didn't say anything, except a smattering of encouragement, nodding her head in agreement, and coaxing me to drink the tea and keep yapping if I needed it. And, yes, I needed to get it out. After I had finished, I had drunk the cup. April had nicely had poured me two more, and emptied the sugar bowl as well.

She sat back, folding her arms across her chest, giving me that look of sad understanding.

"I know that it's hard for you to be cooped up here, big guy, but you can't just storm the city and expect to find Splinter. Not without some sort of-"

I scowled at her, and shoved a palm up. "Save me the lecture, April. I've gotten plenty of that from Leo and Donny."

She narrowed her eyes. "Let me finish,Raph."

April tilted her head, her green eyes gleaming. "I'm with you on going back."

I clamped my mouth shut in surprise.

April frowned at her tea cup, and refilled it and mine without asking. Setting the kettle down, she finally looked at me, searchingly.

"Raph, I want you to be completely honest with me. _Are_ you healed up enough to go back?"

"What the hell do you mean, _am I healed?!_ What exactly do you think I've been doing this whole time, April?! Sitting on my ass and picking the flowers? Of course I'm healed up!"

Instinctively, I snarled, only to have my venom flung back at me when April whipped around and spat, "Damn it, Raph, shut the _hell up and listen to me!"_

I was too stunned to do anything else, as April narrowed those green eyes and stared me down.

"This would be so much easier on everybody if you'd just stop being such a stubborn jackass, Raph. I get that it's hard on you to be less than up to par. I know that it's been humiliating for you to need help with the basics, and I know that you've hated every minute of it. Believe me, you've made that very, very clear." April shrugged, tiredly.

"Do you remember that night you saved my life, Raph? Do you remember how beaten and broken I was? Now, granted, it wasn't nearly as severe as what you went through, but I still had to recover…pick up the pieces. It took me a lot of time and help. And it was hard for me to admit that I was struggling, that I was scared, and that I was _hurt. _"

She looked at me, pointedly, before continuing, "I know that you hide a lot of things from us, Raph. I don't know if you're just trying to protect yourself, or if you really don't trust us to understand you. But, that, for now, is a side issue."

I heard the clink and scratch of metal as she dumped the van keys out on the table.

"I want you to tell me the truth, Raphael. _If_ we go back to the city, will you be able to handle it? If there's any fighting involved to save Splinter, can your brothers count on you? You say you've been healing, and I believe you. But, what happens if something goes wrong? I don't know, you twist something, or a Foot henchman clobbers you at just the right moment, and you're incapacitated when your brothers need you most. I know that you'd die to defend your family, that you'd never do anything to deliberately put your brothers at risk. Well, that is _exactly_ what you're doing if you claim to be ready to get back into fighting, when you really can't. I trust you, Raph."

She sipped her tea, staring at me over the rim of her cup with wary catlike eyes.

"You say the word, and I'll drive you back to the city myself. So, tell me, honestly. Are you truly ready to go back?"


End file.
